Robber Barons
by tedsini
Summary: Political power, like nature, abhors a vacuum. The Capital Wasteland hasn't been unified in more than 200 years but Liam Conal thinks he can succeed where others have failed. He'd better because this is his last chance.
1. Chapter 1

The poet and aesthetic philosopher Samuel Taylor Coleridge spoke of the "willing suspension of disbelief" to justify the use of fantastic elements in literature. Everyone who has played the Fallout games has indulged in this exercise to their great satisfaction as the world of post-apocalyptic America has unfolded. To further the ends of fiction that is based upon these games I have taken some small liberties with the nature of the Capital Wasteland while trying to stay as faithful to the lore of the game as possible.

The most important assumptions that I've made in this story are first, that political power, like nature, abhors a vacuum. Someone, eventually, will attempt an NCR-type unification of the Capital Wasteland. Second, the population of the wasteland must be significantly greater than that which we see in the game. There are perhaps 400 named characters in the game, including all the DLC. Even if the unnamed characters are added to the mix, any anthropologist would tell you is far too small to support any kind of society at all, much less one that includes several substantial settlements. So, don't be surprised, for example, if there are several hundred residents of Megaton. Third, there are some pretty basic technological innovations that should have reappeared by the third century post-war. For example, where the hell is the WHEEL? Things like basic carts, harnesses and collars for pack animals, etc. will be assumed to have been developed. The Brahmin should be happy.

Fourth, I've always thought that within the Fallout universe, most of the "villains" are far too one-dimensional, and among all the evil bastards out there in the Wasteland none are more heavy-handedly evil than the Raiders. Why are they such idiots? I mean they have their freedom, plenty of 23rd century drugs, the companionship of others of their kind with bodies made almost unbelievably attractive by the game developers as well as by the creators of the many body mods (Breeze, Rude, et al). So when I see some large-breasted, nearly naked woman who looks as though she just stepped out of the Martyn Maxey Hair Salon and screaming "Tear 'em apart.", I just scratch my head and chalk it up to the time and economic constraints of game design.

Before I forget, here's a disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of any part of the Fallout universe. I think that distinction goes to Bethesda, at least for Fallout 3, to Interplay, formerly Black Isle for the earlier games and to God knows who for the prospective MMOG. If you think that life in the Wasteland is contentious, just follow that legal drama.

Final note: this story takes a while to build. There are no early bloodletting. I take some, but what I hope is not an exorbitant amount of time to set the foundation for what, by necessity, will be a story that takes quite some time to tell. It all depends on you, the readers. I hope that a story of this sort finds an audience in the pages of FanFiction. We shall see what we shall see.

* * *

_"Those who cannot remember the past, are condemned to repeat it," - George Santayana_

"_History repeats itself, and that's one of the things that's wrong with history" - Clarence Darrow_

… **from a certain perspective. **

"I'm getting too old for this shit." Liam complained to no one in particular. He was sweating and breathing heavily as he shifted his pack to one side and crested the ridge. Aside from his books and electronics he only carried a blanket, a shelter half, some purified water, dried Brahmin meat, some cooking utensils, a first-aid kit, night-vision goggles and, of course, his weapons – a sniper rifle, a combat shotgun, a couple of grenades and a fully-automatic 45. His leather rebel armor was lightweight but provided a surprising amount of damage protection. The bulk of his load consisted of engineering manuals. They were priceless, irreplaceable, and as soon as he could find an apparatus to transcribe the books to holotape he was going to burn the lot of them. He had been half-mesmerized by the railroad tracks he had been following for the past few miles. His neck snapped up at the sound of a Brahmin lowing and he proceeded with a more wary step, fully alert.

This trip was not what I had in mind for my retirement, he thought. Yeah, that's about the best spin I can put on walking almost 250 miles of barren wilderness with near-impassable rivers, hostile locals and mind-numbing heat. You would've thought that at the least I'd get a little professional courtesy from the raiders, he grumbled under his breath_. _I have, after all, been taking down trading barges for most of the last 20 years. His crew worked the confluence of the Monongahela, Allegheny and Ohio rivers. Their knowledge of the currents and seasonal variations gave them an advantage over the traders who worked the entire length of the rivers. It also helped to have the fastest, most reliable craft afloat. This, he thought, was compliments of me, the best engineer from DC to the once-Great Lakes, if I do say so myself. Well, if I wasn't a damn good engineer Ashur - damned if I ever called him "Lord" Ashur - never would have recruited me to be the chief production engineer at the Pitt.

Long before Ashur, life on the river was sweet. The pirates, there was really no other way to describe them, took a "tariff" on any vessel they could interdict on the rivers. They crews seldom put up a fight. The barges were built for cargo while the pirates' craft were built for combat. They took only a portion of the cargo and never did any more damage than was absolutely necessary to force the other vessel to strike its colors. This was pragmatic rather than altruistic; a vessel once sunk would never pay a tariff again.

Then Owen _fucking_ Lyons brought the Brotherhood to the Pitt and they crushed every local crew they could find. Thing is, they also sowed the seeds of its resurrection when they left Knight Ishmael Ashur behind for dead. Instead of dying, he survived to unite the scavengers and most of the local raiders into an organization that not only ruled most of western Pennsylvania, but also became a formidable trading and manufacturing center. That bastard was one of the hardest me that I've ever met, Liam mused. He had a good organizational mind and was charismatic in the bargain. On a practical note, his vision of a functional mill was impressive if somewhat limited. Ashur had sent agents to Paradise Falls for "workers" to meet the "labor" shortage caused by the Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion and before you could blink they were turning out steel. Steel!

Now it's not too difficult to create steel from scrap metal – the Enclave must be doing it somewhere in order to manufacture their power armor. But the Enclave doesn't do any mining, so they can't produce steel in any great quantities. They can't make enough to sell and what they do produce goes to high-end product like their power armor. But production in quantity requires mining and mining is labor-intensive. Can't you imagine those assholes in Hellfire armor swinging a pick or humpin' a wheelbarrow full of ore?

Steel production on a large scale requires iron ore, coke and limestone for the iron and chromium if you want to make stainless. There's plenty of ore in Pennsylvania as well as in Maryland, along the Chesapeake. Some of the Maryland ore is rich in chromium, which is something of a bonus. You find coke just about anywhere coal has been mined – can you say Pennsylvania and West Virginia. Coke? No problem.

When Ashur asked me where to find chromium I told him that the earliest worked deposits in North America were those found in the serpentine of the Bare Hills near the old city of Baltimore. For a guy as jaded as I am, that was a pretty stupid thing to say. It took my team six months to locate, survey and sample the deposits, but we were never short of chromium after that. Now that the Pitt is being run by the former "workers", production will almost certainly plummet. Who's going to mine that shit without a gun to his head, or endure the heat in the mill? Then, when the equipment starts falling apart, production will stop all together. Good luck with the Bessemer converter, Wernher – he, he, he.

……………**..**

"This looks like the place" he thought out loud, peering along the line of railroad cars as they bent into the maw of the complex known as Evergreen Mills – probably the only other place within a 500-mile radius where you also had the still-intact furnaces necessary for steel production. He noticed that a caravan had set up where the tracks turned into a canyon.

"Is this a regular stop for your caravan?" he asked the man who seemed to be in charge..

"Sure is. Raider caps look the same as any other. You got a problem with that?"

"No, it's just that raiders and traders don't mix much where I used to live. Fact is, I'm glad to see a businessman with a pragmatic bent."

"I'm Lucky, that's my name, not my destiny. Lucky Harith. I guess my folks hoped the name would be a self-fulfilling prophecy, not that it's seemed to work out that way."

"I'm Liam, Lucky. What's your inventory like?"

"Weapons my friend. Sale and repair. Anything from combat knives to assault rifles." I found he was eying my armor. "I've never seen gear quite like yours before. Where did you come across it, if I might ask."

"I got if from a supervisor at the Pitt, name of Everett." Lucky's eyebrows rose at the name of the infamous mill facility. "It used to belong to a priest who swore it was bulletproof."

"What happened to the priest?" Lucky asked.

"It seems he had been misinformed." Noticing the stacks of crates, Liam pressed "What's in those containers?"

"Water, pure and clean."

"That must have set you back some" Liam said.

"The water is free, friend. It's the transportation that's costly. See the sign?"

Liam read: "Free water" and shook his head. "How can pure water be free?" he asked. "Nobody gives pure water away."

"Where are you from again?" asked Lucky, smiling acerbically. "Haven't you heard about _Project Purity_?"

"Project what?" Liam asked, incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

So, Lucky ran down the story of the scientists who conceived and developed a plan to provide clean, pure water to the DC Tidal Basin. How they failed at first due to the untimely death in childbirth of one of them, but how her husband came back 20 years later to at last succeed with the help of their son. How the father lost his life at the hands of the Enclave and how the son and the remaining members of the team joined with the Brotherhood of Steel to wrest control of the facility from the Enclave and complete the project in triumph. Finally, Liam learned that the upshot of all this was that the Brotherhood was now _giving water away for free_. Finally, the trader described how the Rivet City security forces were helping the Brotherhood with distribution throughout the Capital Wasteland and the caravans were bringing pure water to the people in barrels and crates of bottles.

"And none of this" Lucky concluded "would have been possible if not for the Brotherhood of Steel and the Lone Wanderer."

"WHAT?" Liam exclaimed! "The fucking Lone Wanderer? Again? First this clown wrecks the only steel production facility on the East coast, if not on the continent of North America, and now he's destroying the economy of the entire DC region by giving away a major resource below cost and driving any number honest merchants out of business. What an asshole!" Liam's face was turning an angry shade of red. Lucky didn't know whether to be alarmed for Liam's sake or his own.

"Well, not everybody sees it in quite that light …." Lucky began. But Liam was in full rant by this time.

"And don't even get me started on those sanctimonious, overbearing, self-righteous pigs from the Brotherhood of _STEAL_. Two hundred years of pillaging, scavenging and bullying technology from people and they still can't make anything for themselves. I mean I'm a thief, a killer and a slaver, but I NEVER claimed to be something I wasn't. I don't like those Nazi bastards from the Enclave either, but at least their scientists make their own armor and weapons! The _Botherhood_ is still using armor from before the fuckin' war, and they'll steal it from anyone, anywhere, anytime."

Lucky was slowly backing away as he shrugged his shoulders. "Sure mister, I, uh, know how you feel, I guess."

Liam noticed the look on Lucky's face and dialed his emotions down, at least to the point where he ceased his raving.

How far is the camp?"

"Just follow the tracks for a quarter mile or so. Can't miss it."

………………………**..**

…. Gee, that was easy, just like Hemmingway said it would be – just sit in front of a typewriter and bleed. What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Evergreen Mills**

…

"I don't know what weapons will be used in world war three, but in world war four people will use sticks and stones." _- Albert Einstein_

…………………_._

Liam walked along the tracks that were crowded with old, open boxcars. Long ago stripped of anything of obvious value, they stood forlorn and open-mouthed at the walls of the canyon. There were walkways jutting out over the tracks or even crossing over them completely. Telltale torsos hung from the metal framework. A bit further down the line the tracks split in a "Y" as the valley floor opened wide to accommodate several buildings. The main artery split to the left and the right. He noticed some non-descript shacks to the left while on the right there were several fenced pens, possibly for slaves. Above the pens a long, shambling ramp led up to a rocky prominence that overlooked the complex from the northern edge of the installation. A shack sat on top of it. Across the way sat its opposite number, a smaller shack perched on another rocky knob at the southern end of the facility. Past the slave pens were several open, dilapidated buildings and yet another pen, very heavily fortified with electrified razor wire running along the top. Looking more closely he spied two generators with wires running to the fencing. Puzzled, he stepped forward to examine the contents of the enclosure.

There was a rampart running along the top although it was secured by a locked gate. It should be noted that in a world of imperfect creatures, perhaps the most forgivable crimes are those which stem from curiosity. Liam believed that if it was indeed curiosity that killed the cat, then at least the cat had died a noble death. Armored thusly, he proceeded with a blithe disregard for his own safety.

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?" he heard someone ask from below.

"Ah, hello. Just wondering what could be so valuable as to warrant this kind of protection." Liam responded.

"I see you managed to pick the lock on the gate." It was a woman's voice; her tone was measured and subtly menacing.

"Yes, when you travel as much as I do it helps to have a thief's skill set." he brazenly replied.

"There's nothing more dangerous than a resourceful idiot." she retorted.

She was now in plain sight, having moved to the back of the cage to a point just below Liam. She wore nondescript armor, no spikes or ornamentation and stood with her arms folded across her chest. Grey speckled not only her hair but her entire visage; only her dancing green eyes betraying her mood. A slow look of recognition spread across his face. "Maggie?" he said.

"The people you run into when you don't have a flamer handy." she grated. "Hello, Liam. Have a peek if you like, but don't say I didn't warn you." Menace retreated from her tone and amusement crept into its place.

Liam narrowed his gaze and slowly turned his head toward the interior of the cage, wondering just what she meant when the monster that was standing directly below him moved away from the wall, looked straight up into Liam's eyes and bellowed in rage.

There are three things you don't want to do when you encounter a previously unknown danger in the Wasteland. First, you don't want to wet your armor; two, you don't want to scream like a little girl and three; you should try not to fall flat on your ass. Liam managed two out of three. In his defense, the walkway was poorly constructed and even the most agile raider might have had trouble keeping his balance. Moreover, super mutants are largely unknown as far north as the Pitt. Having traveled to the Capital Wasteland before, however, Liam was not without some first-hand experience of these creatures, but he had never, ever imagined, much less seen, a creature to match the one imprisoned in the cage below him. Regardless of justification or dignity, however, the fact remained that Liam found himself on his backside, moving crablike away from the fencing and reaching for his 45.

There was no mistaking the structure now; it was a cage, meant to keep something in, not to keep others out. That something was the largest living creature he had ever seen; a super mutant Behemoth. The creature stood all of 20 feet tall and was chained at the wrists. This did not stop it from reaching for Liam in the hope of making a meal of him. Once he reached the end of his tether, however, he received a jolt of several thousand volts – enough to halt him in his tracks. He turned in sullen rage back to the center of his sad prison, sat on the ground and began gnawing at the remains of a Brahmin.

Liam blinked, climbed to his feet and made his way back down the steps.

……………**. **

"Good to see you again, Maggie." Liam said as he worked his way around the fence and toward the woman he hadn't seen in nearly 20 years. He smiled broadly and sent her to the ground with a surprisingly quick jab to the chin.

"That'll be 450 caps, with 20 years interest."

"You always did have a head for figures, Liam, but if I had enough Hubbucks to repay my "loan" do you think I'd be living in this old mill running this sorry bunch of psychos?" she asked, rising unsteadily.

"_Running_, did you say? Would that be "running" as in being in charge? The boss? Something along those lines?" Liam's brow furrowed and his brain began working overtime with this information. "Oh, and I'd be watching the obscure references, love. 'Hubbucks' might mean nothing to the average psycho, but you might not want to betray your roots to anyone with even a passing familiarity with the geography of what used to pass for a nation."

"There's no one within a hundred miles of here who has ever heard of the Hub, Liam, and even if they did it wouldn't make a difference. You've been in the east as long as I have. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. It's different here. People judge you by your actions; they couldn't care less about your background or your reputation. It's wilder here. It's every man for himself. There's no NCR; nobody cares enough to even try to organize a government. You just latch onto the biggest crew you can find, take whatever you need, and fuck the rest of the human race." Her bitterness was palpable. Perhaps she hadn't found whatever it was she was looking for when she left him all those years ago.

Before he could consider her words, however, she went on "As for the first part of your question, the answer is yes. I'm the boss of this crew. I run Evergreen Mills and don't you dare look surprised. In 20 years there's never been a successful attack on the Mills. We pick our targets carefully. The caravans are off limits so they don't hesitate to stop here. Smiling Jack runs his own shop here; we find it useful to have an in-house trader. We supply slaves to Paradise Falls and run a brothel in the Bazaar that does a booming business. We have customers from all over the wasteland."

Despite himself Liam was impressed. "What's the deal with the Behemoth?" he asked.

"That was a bet. Some of the crew had a disagreement over how much med-x it would take to put a Behemoth down. This big boy had been rampaging through the hills just north of here for a few weeks, so one night when the foundry gang had cooked up a particularly good batch of Jet they raided our medical supplies and went out after him."

"I probably shouldn't ask, but what happened next?" he asked.

"Well, they found the Behemoth about 2 miles from here and started shooting syringes loaded with med-x at him. It's pretty hard to miss a target that size, even when you're out of your mind on chems."

"So, how much med-x did they have to use to bring it down?" Liam asked doubtfully.

"All of it, and a couple of the gang who got too close, and a mole rat who distracted the beast while it was chasing the rest of the gang back to the Mills." she smiled wickedly. It finally passed out after it finished its meal. Then they managed to tie up the creature, drag him back down the tracks and put him in the pen before he woke up. Now we don't know what to do with him. We could just kill him; even a Behemoth wouldn't survive 50 or 60 raiders shooting at him from point-blank range. He eats half a Brahmin every day; enough to feed a small crew. Still, I can't help thinking that it's going to be fun to release him somewhere. Imagine if we could manage to get him onboard Rivet City?"

"Same old Maggie, always yanking my chain." he said. "At least I hope you are."

She paused for a moment, looked at him levelly and asked "So, what are you doing here Liam?"

"Well that's the real question, isn't it?"

Two month ago, or even two weeks, he wouldn't have been able to give her a truthful answer. At the Pitt, Liam lived about a mile from the mill. He found the constant industrial hum too demanding; he could never make his home on the grounds. Consequently, when the shit hit the fan he didn't learn of the coup until Wernher knocked on his door to tell him he was welcome to stay on as the chief engineer.

Liam knew Wernher when the latter was still working for Ashur. They were both important cogs in the machinery of the Pitt. The thing is, he never trusted Wernher; thought he was narcissistic, thin-skinned and way too interested in Ishmael and Sandra's kid. As soon as Wernher left, Liam packed a few necessities and took his leave. He considered going back to the West Coast; he had grown up there, with Maggie, and he had fond memories of his youth. The problem was that the reason he had left in the first place was that the times were changing even then. Power was being accumulated into the hands of the few and the only real way to make a difference was to join the new ruling class. Liam wasn't much of a joiner.

So when faced with a choice between the familiar and comfortable past and the challenge of an unknown future he really had no choice at all. Turning Horace Greely's advice on its head, he went east. The east was where he saw opportunity; the east was where he could shape the future. He had a vision of the future. He raised his chin and smiled at Maggie.

He said "I have a plan."


	3. Chapter 3

"Strategic planning is worthless -- unless there is first a strategic vision."_ - John Naisbitt_

"He who fails to plan, plans to fail" _- Proverb_

**Chapter Three: A Conversation**

Maggie raised her hands in front of her as if warding against something insidious and at the same time irresistible. "Not that it wasn't fun, Liam, but the last time I bought into one of your plans I wound up running for my life for a couple of thousand miles. Sometimes I wish I'd stayed in the Vault."

"Sometimes?" Liam asked, "Not always?"

"I would have been a doctor, Liam, and you; you would have been the Overseer by now." She sat down on a bench by one of the shacks and he joined her, turning his head to look her in the eyes.

"Remember that old book Mr. Austin used to read? The Bible? He used to read it to me when I'd go to work in the hydroponics wing. It was subdivided into _books_ and the first one was called _Genesis_. There was a couple, the first man and the first woman. They lived in a garden where no one was hungry and no one had to fight to live. They didn't know the difference between good and evil. Then a snake came along and convinced them that they could learn about good and evil by eating a fruit from this special tree." Liam turned his head in thought, his eyes closed in recollection.

"So they ate the fruit and learned – everything. The bad part was that they were cast out of the garden for what they had done; the good part was that after they left, they controlled their own lives. Well, that and they got to have sex." Liam turned to Maggie to find her shaking her head.

"I knew there was going to be a catch to this story." she said, smiling in exasperation despite herself.

"Don't you see, Maggie? We would have been bored to death in that vault, and we never would have known any better, never known the difference between life in the vault and life. Even after we left and found our way to the Hub I knew we'd never make our mark there. The NCR is already beginning to stagnate, top-heavy with bureaucracy. It's like some great, old beast that's dying – still dangerous if you get too close but in reality it can't even move to keep the flies off itself anymore.

"OK," she granted,. "Just for the sake of argument, let's say that I'm curious about your plans for my little corner of the world. Bear in mind that I've worked hard to rise to the top of this garbage heap. Tell me why I should do anything that would put it at risk."

"Big fish; small, stagnant and rather rank pond." Liam observed dispassionately.

"You don't know anything _about_ this pond." she retorted, angry now.

"The first step in understanding a new place is to _smell_ it. This _Capital Wasteland_ smells _bad_, Maggie. It's dying; not in the same way as the NCR, but dying all the same. Two hundred years after the war, it's still a battleground. What's the fucking prize here? You have a couple of hundred maniacs willing to do anything you say. What do you do with them? Rob from the destitute and give to the poor."

Liam was just getting warmed up when Maggie broke in: "What would you do differently?"

Liam paused, took a breath and considered; "First, I'd create some_ wealth._"

"What the hell does that mean?" Maggie asked.

"It means that stealing becomes progressively more rewarding as the wealth of your victims increases. Would you rather steal from the Prince or the Pauper?" he queried.

"There are _no_ Princes in this part of the world, Liam. There aren't even any books for people to read about them. Except maybe Alistair Tenpenny, and he's pretty well protected."

"That's the whole point, love; the idea is to increase _everyone's_ wealth."

"How?"

"Lot's of ways."

"That's not very specific." she replied, gesturing to him to provide an explanation.

It was only late afternoon but the sun had already taken its leave; a short day was a fact of life in a canyon.

"Alright, the reason that I came to Evergreen Mills from the Pitt should be obvious; I want to reopen the mill."

"What?" Maggie was genuinely surprised. "How are you … I mean, is that even _possible_?"

"Of course it is. You have all the equipment you need right here in this yard. I can see that it was moved outside at some point in the past to make room inside for people to live, but the equipment is still intact. I can repair anything that isn't in working order and we can begin to smelt scrap steel in a matter of weeks."

Liam warmed to his topic. "These boxcars weigh upwards of 20 tons apiece." The super mutant wasn't the only behemoth in the yard; the immense metal boxes seemed out of place in a world in which the only means of conveyance was your feet. "It would be a shame to melt them down, but there's plenty more where that came from."

Maggie balked at this. "So you cut them into pieces with welding torches; torches we have, that's not a problem." Maggie was falling into their old repartee; acting both as foil and complement for his conjecture. "Then you toss them into the vat and what, they sit there? Where do you get the juice to melt them down?"

"We can string a series of fission reactors together. Every abandoned car in the Wasteland has a small, fission reactor and most of them still have their batteries. In the long run, though, if you want to make steel you need a power plant."

Maggie smiled and shook her head. "You going to fit right in here, Liam; you're still as crazy as a shithouse rat."

"No, really. There are power stations all over the Wasteland. According to my map, the VAPL-84 station is about three miles away."

"I know that place." Maggie brightened. "Our scouts pass that way almost daily."

"Scouts?" Liam asked.

"Some of the more reliable members of the crew go out for me on _special _assignments." Maggie explained. "Usually it's to gather information about what's going on in the rest of the Wasteland."

"So you think Station 84 is a feasible location?" asked Liam.

"Sure, as long as you can get it up and running." Maggie cautioned. "Once you have power, we should be able to run some power lines back to the Mill. There's dozens of old transmission towers all over the wasteland. You can see several over the northern rim. Most of them still have power lines attached. We could cut them down and restring them along the surface."

"That's all we need to start production." he concluded.

"What _do_ you intend to produce, Liam?"

"Here at the Mills, the only thing we _can_ produce is metal, in sheets or ingots. We have some presses, a couple of punches and some brakes here, but only a few dies. In order to produce anything sophisticated like weapons or replacement parts we're going to have to sift through the various abandoned factories and plants in the Wasteland." he explained. "I have a list of factories but they're just dots on a map. Maybe you can tell me where to start."

Maggie considered his question. "The best-preserved factory that I know of is the old Red Racer plant. We had people in the area as recently as a month ago. It has a functional assembly line and the generators were actually operating."

"It must be occupied." Liam offered.

"It is." she confirmed. "There was some kind of weird gang living in the lot next to the factory. They wore masks and carried bent sticks. They told our scouts that they went inside a few weeks earlier and found feral ghouls and super-mutants. I'm suspicious though; I've never heard of either a feral or a mutie that had the sense to come in out of the rain much less run an industrial facility."

"Sooner or later your scouts are going to be very busy, not only seeking out potential facilities but also looking for the personnel that we need." he told Maggie.

"By 'personnel' you mean slaves." she said. It wasn't a question.

But to her surprise he shook his head and said "No, in these parts we can find plenty of people willing to work for food or clean water. At the Pitt, the only locals were mutated beyond any hope of ever being able to do anything useful. What we need here at the Mills are technical people – enough of them to achieve a creative critical mass."

"I'm not sure I follow you, Liam, but if you when you start talking about _critical mass_ you're going to make a lot of people nervous." Maggie said.

"All I mean is that I'm good at what I do, but my own expertise is somewhat limited. We need a doctor here, some general purpose research techs, a physicist – preferably with experience building or at least maintaining nuclear power generators – and maybe a biologist. We need to keep track of every person in the Wasteland with technical or scientific training."

"You don't need all those people just to make steel." she observed.

"Of course we don't," he affirmed, "but we do if we want to rebuild this society."

Maggie opened her mouth, or maybe her jaw just dropped; then she started slowly, "You know it's funny, Liam, how one minute you can be talking to someone that seems to be perfectly normal; then next minute you realize that he's out of his fucking mind!"

Liam was laughing softy to himself, gazing across the yard at nothing in particular. "All the pieces are here, Maggie." he said. "They've just been knocked about a bit. All we need is a little imagination, a steady hand and some blood – oh yes, there's going to be blood spilled."

"It sounds like a journey of a thousand miles, Lee; where do you begin? What's the _first step?_" she asked, indifferent to the irony of quoting, in this place of nuclear devestation, the ancient Chinese proverb.

"The first thing we're going to build" Liam said, smile still in place, "is a pipeline."

"A pipeline? To carry what?" Maggie asked, her curiosity piqued in spite of herself.

"A pipeline to carry all the beautiful, free, clean water that the Brotherhood has so generously supplied for us. All we have to do is set up a pumping station anywhere on the southern shore of the tidal basin and then run a few miles of pipe to the nearby settlements. Every few miles we'll need a pump to keep the pressure up and we'll have to fabricate some pipe fittings, water meters to measure the flow and a few other odds and ends, but it's not impossible or even difficult, it's just a lot of work." Liam smiled broadly.

"First, we let everyone in the path of the pipeline know what we're planning. We negotiate a reasonable price for the water. Then we deliver the water and create a demand for it – a demand for sufficient water not only to drink, but to cook with, bathe in, and even to irrigate fields and gardens." he said.

"Think of it Maggie; the rebirth of agriculture. It's possible if you have clean water for irrigation."

"The best part of it is that the Brotherhood of Steel will be unable to take action against us without appearing to be spiteful fascists and for this they have no one to blame but themselves." he pressed. "They could have done this at any time for at least the past hundred years; they just don't have the inclination."

Maggie asked "Can we really do this? Can we bring water to the Wasteland in this kind of quantity and still turn a profit?"

"A profit?" Liam exclaimed. "We'll be rich as Croesus!" He began reciting the numbers that he had clearly worked out in advance. "On my way into the Mills I saw pack Brahmin carrying cartons or barrels of water. The larger Brahmin carried two 55-gallon drums each. 110 gallons of water weighs about 900 pounds, about the most a Brahmin can carry and even that's pushing it."

Liam drove the numbers home. "Let's take Megaton as an example. A Brahmin can make the trip between the Tidal Basin and Megaton in about a day and a half; that's a three day round trip. Every active person needs at least a gallon of water to drink each day, and Wastelanders have to be very active indeed, just to survive. A Brahmin, then, brings enough water for one person to live for four months. That's a gallon per day for 110 days."

Maggie worked to follow the reasoning and found that Liam was correct.

"In order to supply one person for a year," Liam went on, "that Brahmin would need to make just over 3 trips to Megaton for a total of 10 days. At 10 days per person, one Brahmin can supply about 36 people with enough daily drinking water to survive. They still won't have any water to cook with and you may not want to stand downwind of them because there will be no water for bathing."

It occurred to Maggie that Liam was having far too much fun with this.

"Now contrast that with the volume of water that you can get from, say, a 15-inch water pipe. Allowing for the pressure it takes to overcome the increase in elevation from the Jefferson Memorial to Megaton, not to mention the losses from leakage, pipe-friction and evaporation, we can still expect to get several hundred gallons per minute at the final delivery system." Liam explained. "You need about 2 gallons per minute for a decent shower, so by next summer the good citizens of Megaton could be a lot more fragrant."

"First you'll have to convince most of those folks to get into a shower." Maggie laughed. "Jericho wouldn't shower if you paid him."

"Who?"

"Jericho. He's a rare breed, a retired raider. He lives in Megaton now and obliges us with news about the town and the caravans that pass through." she explained. "If you want to build a pipeline to Megaton, he can tell you the names of the people you need to deal with."

"Then it looks like you and I are taking a trip north. How soon can we leave?" Liam asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What do you mean '_we_' Liam?" Maggie cautioned, "I haven't completely bought into this plan yet, and even if I do I need to bring it to my crew before I can give you any kind of commitment."

"What do you mean? You have some kind of Raider _Council_? " Liam asked sarcastically.

"I bring up any major decision with the different factions. This is a small town, Liam; there are a lot of different interests here." she explained patiently.

"Oh I see. First you go to the Jet-freaks, then you parley with the dope fiends, next you check in with the slashers, then …."

"LIAM!" Maggie exploded, "We're Khans here! We're not some scrounging Wasteland rabble!" She took a breath and went on "A decision of this magnitude requires consensus."

"Consensus? Garl wasn't the _Prime Minister_ of the Khans, Maggie; he was the _leader_ and his word was law." Liam shot back.

"That was a different time, in a different place and under different circumstances." Maggie maintained, in control of herself again. "Garl never asked anyone to do anything other than killing, looting or raping, and Evergreen Mills isn't the Pitt. These aren't slaves; they're Raiders and the sons and daughters of Raiders. They have a heritage that goes back two hundred years and three thousand miles. If you ever want to steel pouring out of these cauldrons, you better get the support of the people doing the heavy lifting."

"Point taken." Liam finally acknowledged. "Who do I need to see about this?"

"Let me introduce you around first." Maggie said. "Everyone will be curious about you and I'll drop bits here and there; your background, your skills and your plans. By the time I'm done, they'll be asking _you_ for a meeting.

"Which meetings should I agree to?" Liam asked. He'd always admired Maggie's political skills. She was not only smart; she was cunning. She outlined her thoughts.

"First you should meet with the Foundry crew. They're the merchants here and they're the only ones with any technical savvy. They also have the most caps." she began..

"Who else?"

"I'd have a talk with Madame. She runs the brothel. She's sharp and her girls will push any agenda she supports. Men are much more open to suggestion when they're getting laid." Maggie smiled. "She'll support anything that's good for business. If she believes that you can bring in more workers, then you're her best friend – which does come with some perks."

"How did I ever survive you?" Liam questioned with feigned innocence. "Anyone else?"

"Yeah, you'll need the support of at least some of the grunts. There are two main groups; one that goes out on raids and another that patrols the local area. The first group calls themselves the _Huns_; they're young, crazy, take a lot of Jet to stay awake in the field for days. The other group is the _Trojans_."

"After the ancient city?" Liam asked incredulously.

"I guess. It's probably because they're defenders; you know, like in that book." Maggie conjectured.

"That didn't work out too well for the original Trojans, as I recall." Liam snorted caustically.

"Yeah, well if this bunch sees a wooden horse they'll turn a flamer on it. For the most part they're older; some of them have injuries that hinder them from going out in the field for long stretches. It's their job to keep this place safe. They have tradition and can seem set in their ways. If you can bring them around, along with Madame and the foundry, then you can probably start to reopen this mill. But, if the Trojans support you, chances are the Huns will be against anything you suggest. Same thing if you go after the Huns support. There's a lot of animosity between the two crews." Maggie reluctantly admitted, as if this somehow reflected on her leadership.

"Which group should I court?" Liam queried. He needed to get this one right. He had to choose the correct side and at the same time ensure that the other side was not moved to seek his death. He gave his full attention to Maggie as she considered his question.

"Approach the Trojans first. They're older and more experienced, although their numbers are smaller. They'll give you a fair hearing."

………………**.**

Evening had fallen as they'd been speaking. The stars had begun to come out in clusters. Liam was gazing north at Orion, the bottom of its belt obscured by the cliffs.

"I'm all in, Maggs." Liam sighed. "Tell me the most important part now; do you have a man here?"

"I have more than a hundred men here, Liam." she teased, "Who did you have in mind?"

"What I mean is, will any of them be throwing a frag grenade in my tent if they find that I'm sleeping with the boss?"

"You always did have a way with words, Liam." she chided. She took his hand all the same.

"Let me show you my quarters."


	4. Chapter 4

"Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity." – _Seneca_

Chapter Four: _Groundwork_

Liam slumbered undisturbed by frag grenades or jealous lovers. He was unable to recall when he had slept so soundly. His habit was to rest in efficiently deep and dreamless bursts, but on occasion he would sleep for several hours of vivid and frenetic imagery. As his eyes regretfully popped open, fragments of the dreamscape fled beyond recall or purchase. He sighed, recalling Shakespeare: "In sleep a king, but, waking, no such matter." No, no kings here; only the stark cavern walls and the sounds of the bazaar waking. Never one to put pleasure ahead of business, Maggie was already up and gone about her duties. He quickly dressed and went in search of breakfast.

He wandered down the ramps, through the upper levels which opened to the entrance to the brothel. He made a mental note of the location, not that it was easy to miss the two tawdry statues with tiny, light bulb nipples. He had been too tired last night to remember the layout of the complex but this morning he let his nose lead him down to the lower level, where the bazaar exited to the foundry. Set back from the ramps was a counter flanked by two refrigerators. It was populated by plates, utensils, salt, pepper and other indicia that meals could be had here.

Behind the counter sat a woman making a desultory effort to wipe the debris of previous meals to the floor.

"Can I get some breakfast here?" Liam asked.

"You can have breakfast _anytime_." she replied.

"OK then, I'll have French toast during the Renaissance." he deadpanned.

"Uh, I'm afraid we don't have that." the woman relied, vaguely flustered. "How about some fresh Brahmin milk?"

Liam grimaced and declined. He'd always wondered who the first person was who thought to milk a Brahmin. Who was the first guy to look at one of these creatures and say "I think I'll squeeze those things and drink whatever comes out." Opting for a more vigorous eye-opener he asked for a beer with a whiskey chaser. As an afterthought he added a bowl of noodles. He chugged the beer, sipped the whiskey and spooned the noodles into his mouth with gusto. Only then did he take a good look at the woman who had served him.

She was no Raider. She dressed as a wastelander, but there was no collar around her neck. She wasn't a slave, so why was she here? Why would anyone who wasn't a Raider come to the Mills?

"If you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here?" Liam asked her.

She exhaled and started to roll her eyes before catching herself. This wasn't the first time she'd heard this question. "I was travelling north a few months ago with my husband. Yao Guai attacked us. My husband was killed and our supplies ransacked. I followed the railroad tracks to the Mills. I could tell it was a Raider camp, but I was starving. They fed me; then they put me to work. I got passed around a bit until I hooked up with Hammer. Since then I've been running the breakfast line. I wouldn't say I've been lucky, but it could have been a lot worse.

"So who's Hammer?" Liam asked.

"Pleased to meet you." a voice came from Liam's left.

Liam turned to see a large, heavily-muscled man in full Raider regalia. He was maybe 40 years old with a full, dark beard speckled with gray framing a broad, intelligent face. "Likewise." he said. "Hammer, I presume."

"You presume correctly, and you must be Liam." the big man said.

"I see Maggie's been busy." Liam observed.

"She's a good-news, bad-news kind of woman." Hammer said.

"What's the bad news?" Liam asked.

"She said that my job is about to get a lot harder." he said, trying to look stern but failing. The line of his mouth was severe but amusement showed in his eyes.

"Well that much is true." Liam admitted. "How about the good news?"

Hammer was now openly grinning. "She says that you want to open the Mill. Better yet, she thinks you know how to do it. Then she started spinning some tale about a water pipeline. Now I won't ask you if you're crazy, because that much is clear; no one in their right mind would bite off a project of that size. What I need to know is whether you can do half of what Maggie thinks you can do."

Liam didn't answer directly, asking instead "What kind of work can you do here now?"

"We repair weapons and maintain the physical facilities. We set up a series of fission reactors that provide electricity. We also have some computers that we try to keep running; computer parts are a priority whenever our patrols are out hunting. I have some pretty bright people here, but we don't really have the basic knowledge to do much more than we're doing now." he concluded.

"Do you have any holotape writers?" Liam asked him.

"Sure. The admin building had several. We can read on them but we don't know how to write with them. We really don't have anything to archive anyway." he responded.

"You have something now." Liam said. "I carried more than 40 pounds of technical books out of the Pitt. I almost left them on the side of the road after the first couple of days, but now I'm glad that I stuck it out. If we can get these books on holotape, you can start training your people. Once they have the basics I can give them all the hands-on experience they'll need to get this mill up to speed."

Hammer whistled softly through his teeth and said "I have some questions."

"Go on." Liam prompted.

"Maggie said that we're going to begin by smelting scrap metal." Hammer began. She also said that using the boxcars is our last resort."

"That's right." said Liam. We can put them to better use, even if it's several years from now. There's plenty of metal in the vicinity of the Mills; we just need to get it here."

"Well that's my question." the big Raider retorted. "How do you propose to do that? Even a Brahmin can't carry the kind of weight you're talking about. We need a way to move a lot more weight that any animal can bear unaided."

Liam thought for a moment and then played a hunch. "You have an idea, don't you?"

"I do." Hammer confirmed. "Those boxcars out in the yard used to travel all over the Wasteland. They sit on wheels and axles. What if we could build a smaller version? "

Liam nodded and said "In one of the books that I brought you'll find diagrams of carts and carriages. Hell, the Romans had carts, the Greeks before them and the Egyptians before them. You have to go back 5,000 years to find bastards as sorry as we are, hauling everything we need on our backs or on pack animals.

What we need is a open box on wheels. The wheels come in pairs and are attached by axles. Then you need some kind of structure that allows the axles to spin. In addition to spinning, the front axle has to be able to turn to the left or right. There are several ways to do this, including putting a fifth wheel under the body of the cart and attaching it to the front axle. Then you have to fix some kind of long pole to the front of the cart. This lets you hitch Brahmin to the pole in order to pull the load."

Liam was in his element now, explaining technical minutia to an eager pupil. He explained leaf springs for suspension and yoke and harnesses for the Brahmin. They went on in this vein for a couple of hours until Liam realized that the morning was slipping into afternoon and he still hadn't seen Maggie. He excused himself, having made a firm ally of Hammer, and went in search of the Raider chieftain.

…………………

He walked up the ramp that led out of the bazaar and into the foundry. Walking across the open floor of the mill he passed two raiders with a pair of women in tow. The women seemed dazed and were probably in shock; they didn't even acknowledge his passing. He knew that however they had come into the Mills they hadn't started their journey alone. Whoever had accompanied them was probably dead and they might just be the luckier members of their party. Liam suppressed a shudder; after years of fighting for survival he was inured to pain and violence, but he would never get used to the blank expression on someone whose mind has travelled to some other reality to escape the horror of everyday existence.

He stepped out of the foundry into the midday sun, squinting and shielding his eyes with his hand. He walked north, in the direction of some heavy equipment that would have to be scraped down and hauled back into the building. He noticed a sunburned, clean-shaven young raider in combat gear sitting on a bench in front of one of the sheds. He was sharpening a combat knife and as Liam approached he noticed a patch on his shoulder. Liam had taken the man for one of the Huns, given his age and his weathered appearance. The patch told him another story, however; it was an ancient, metal helmet viewed in profile with a crested, long-tailed plume. Liam stopped and on impulse stuck out his hand and introduced himself. "Liam Conal. Glad to meet you." The man stood, took Liam's hand and said "Hector."

"You're one of the Trojans I take it." Liam said. Hector nodded curtly. "You've taken the names of the defenders of Troy?" Liam asked.

"Agamemnon gives us the names," Hector answered, "and I know Agamemnon was on the other side, but I guess there aren't enough Trojan names to go around so we just use whatever sound good. He gets the names from this old book he has."

"Is that where you got the idea for your patches, one of the illustrations in the book?" Liam conjectured.

"No, there are no pictures, just words." Hector replied. "We got the patch from these little foil packets that we find in the ruins. They all have some kind of membrane inside that they must have used for carrying things. They all say 'Trojans' and they have this picture on the outside of the packs."

Liam suppressed a smile and nodded. Once again he was grateful for his Vault education and even for Ashur, who had paid a bounty for pre-war books. He knew his Homer and he also knew the origin of the iconic Trojan who had given his likeness to the defenders of the Mills. Best to keep that tidbit to himself.

Liam asked Hector whether he'd heard about the plan to reopen the mill and to lay a pipeline. Hector nodded and said "We heard about it this morning. Maggie said it would mean a lot of work and a lot of caps. There're no lazy raiders here, Liam. Just be sure that the caps are worth whatever it is we have to do."

"They will be." Liam promised, meeting Hector's eyes for a long moment, and then continued his walk.

……………

Trojans. Homer. He'd have to meet this Agamemnon, Liam thought. He reflected idly on the _old knowledge. _So much had been lost after the Great War. Some skills had been recovered almost immediately. Weapon creation and repair, for example, were the _sine qua non_ of survival in the years following the devastation, so the ability to kill others hardly missed a beat. Art, music and abstract ideas, on the other hand, held little survival value. The memories of the greatest achievements of humankind were therefore consigned to the dusty and forgotten shelves of our schools and libraries. The Brotherhood of Steel mined these archives, at least for books on technology. It seemed to Liam that this somewhat limited service to his ancestors was better than nothing at all. More importantly, in the Vaults that had survived there were thousands of holotapes containing the accumulated knowledge of those who lived in a time when the word _Wasteland_ would never had been appended to _Capital_.

Many years later at the Pitt, Liam had first realized the sheer _volume_ of the knowledge of humanity. Ashur's palace, _Haven_, had once been the site of a great school – a _University_ it had been called. Before the War this enormous structure literally had been filled with books and computer data, more than the entire Brotherhood could have digested in a hundred years. When the Brotherhood had invaded the Pitt, they hadn't even _opened the door._ Such pride, such arrogance – _hubris_, blind Homer would have called it.

The Brotherhood had missed a lot when they came to the Pitt, but I suppose that people – even the Brotherhood – are most comfortable when they find what they expect, Liam mused. Then they left Ashur for dead. I wonder if Owen Lyons is the kind of man who can appreciate the Law of Unintended Consequences.

……………**..**

Liam crossed the tracks and headed back past the foundry toward the mouth of the canyon. A patrol was returning. A quick glance told him that they had been out in the field for at least the past few days. He counted twelve men, seven women and a Gutsy. The humans, at least, were dragging their feet and hanging their heads. Several were bandaged and one was being carried on a makeshift litter.

These were Huns. Unlike the Trojans they had no patch to identify them as members of their crew; but the animal (and _human_?) skins that ornamented their armor left no doubt as to whom they owed their allegiance. They came to a ragged halt as they reached the first ramp. A diminutive, middle-aged man of African heritage had descended the metal structure and waited for them with his arms folded and his face a mask of disdain.

"Report, Rikki." he said. His voice was soft and he spoke with intensity. Every member of the shabby company held their breath as a young, pig-tailed woman moved to the front of the group and stood in what might be some anarchist's interpretation of attention.

"We set up an ambush near the power station north of Tenpenny Towers, Kamau." she said, naming her superior and recounting the facts in a surprisingly concise presentation. "We were there for about a week and a half, took two solos, a couple and a party of five who turned out to be ghouls heading for the trainyard. The ghouls had caps, some assault rifles and lots of ammo. We took all their shit and let them go like Maggie said we should. We kept the humans at the power station in the dumpsters for a few days and when no one else passed by we packed up and got ready for the trip to up to Eulogy's place. That was last Tuesday. We were packing our gear when some Enclave troopers showed up and wanted to set up a temporary base. They're _such_ assholes, but Maggie says to play nice with them so we let them put up their little fences."

Some of her crew looked embarrassed; others rolled their eyes or smiled at the rather creative spin that she placed on their encounter with the Enclave. Unaware of or simply ignoring the non-verbal commentary Rikki pressed on. "Just before we were scheduled to leave, all hell broke loose. Bullets started flying from who knows where and those Enclave idiots started firing plasma rifles at anything that moved. We grabbed our prisoners and retreated north; the devil-heads were the target, not us. Three of us got whacked and one is still missing. We made it to Paradise Falls without any more fighting. We dumped the prisoners and headed back to the Mills."

"Who attacked you?" Kamau demanded.

"Brotherhood, backed by a bunch of Regulators." she shot back.

"How many?" he asked.

"Ten, maybe a dozen. I'm not sure; things got crazy real fast." Rikki replied, her conviction faltering for the first time.

Kamau surveyed the party, looked at their wounds and the level of damage they had suffered. He turned to the Gutsy and asked "What about it Patton? Describe the enemy combatants."

"Three long-coated, commie bastards, SIR!" the hovering robot bawled.

"Three. Three Regulators and you folded up like a cheap suit, Rikki." Kamau said, a statement, not a question. "And no perimeter, I take it? No one was on watch?"

Rikki was clearly flustered. She finally said "We did set out a perimeter; it just wasn't very effective. Hobbes, here" she said, gesturing man on the stretcher, "seems to have been napping."

The Hun commander walked slowly to the man being carried by two of his companions. He glanced across the faces of the raiders nearby and saw no dissent. It was probably the truth, he decided. In the blink of an eye Kamau pulled out his pistol and shot the prone raider between the eyes. He waited a moment for the startled raiders to register what had just happened; then he said to the stretcher-bearers "You can put him down now."

He stepped into the middle of the group and said. "This man cost your companions their lives. There is no excuse. Hang him from the scaffolds. The rest of you, get some sleep. Rikki, you're with me." He turned and walked back toward the center of the camp. He did not need to wait to be sure he was being followed.

"I'm sorry sir." Rikki began.

"Save it." Kamau replied. "Just tell me who you lost."

"Badger and Wilson were shot and killed right away." she reported. "Jenny – red-haired Jenny, not little Jenny – took _friendly_ fire from the Enclave troopers. I saw the new girl, Vickie or something, running into the woods as soon as the shooting started."

"I see you had the presence of mind to bring back the Enclave plasma rifles and footlockers as well as their computer. That's why you're not hanging from the rocks like Hobbes. Don't fuck up again." he said, and gave her a look to emphasize the point. "Now get the fuck out of here." Needing no further encouragement, Rikki turned and headed for the barracks.

Kamau sighed and shook his head. He knew that Rikki Sharpe was smart and capable, but to run idiots like this you had to be hard; brutal even. He'd know soon enough if she was up to the job. He turned his head to the left and slowed, realizing that someone was pacing him. "Something I can do for you?" he asked.

Liam drew up into step with the Hun. "I'm Liam Conal", he said. "If you have a minute I'd like to discuss something."

Kamau stopped and turned to Liam. He said "I know you; you were at the Pitt, weren't you?"

"Yeah, that's me" Liam said, surprised to be recognized. "I landed here when the shit hit the fan. Have you been up there?"

"A few years ago, when I was working at the Falls we delivered some workers" he confirmed. "It really would be something if you could get _this_ place into operation." Kamau suggested. "We have quite a bit of equipment here; it's just that nobody knows what to do with it."

"Actually, that's just what I wanted to discuss. Maggie told me that I should get with each of the crews here to explain my plans and listen to any concerns."

Kamau stopped and turned to face Liam. "If you can bring in enough caps so that I don't have to send out any more of my people to rob and butcher the local populace, I'll be your strongest supporter. Not out of any sense of altruism, mind you, but from a deep-seated instinct for survival. We keep on the way we have been and sooner or later we're going to find ourselves at war – maybe with the Enclave, maybe with the Brotherhood, who knows. So make your move and good luck. Here's a word of advice though; don't fuck up. There's plenty of room up there on the scaffolds." he said, glancing up at the grisly, rotting corpses.

Kamau strode off to the south shack leaving Liam to ponder. Well, he didn't plan on fucking up. I wonder if his support will be as strong when he finds out the Trojans are in our camp, too. Oh well; one thing at a time. Now he just needed to see _Madame_.

……………

Liam retraced his steps through the foundry and down into the Bazaar. He headed up the walkways through several levels finally coming to the garish mannequins that flanked the entrance to the brothel. As he walked up the ramp he noticed that the pungent odor permeating the rest of the complex was absent here. The entrance poked up through a hole in the floor which was in turn surrounded by the perimeter of a large room. Several doors in the room led to … _cells_.

Two women were lounging on a couch that sat to one side of the room while a third sat behind a desk reading from a clipboard. She was young and would have been lovely but for the scar of a deep wound that had been laid across her face. As Liam approached she stood and came around the desk to meet him. She wore a dress that clung to the contours of her body. It was suggestive rather than overt, sensual rather than sexy. This subtlety was in sharp contrast to the couture of the other women who were dressed slightly less scandalously than the two mannequins below.

"Hello Mr. Conal; I'm delighted to meet you. My name is Calico, but you can call me …_Madame_.

……………**..**

"What did you think of Madame?" Maggie asked.

"_Calico_ was cordial, analytical and manipulative. She questioned me more closely than anyone else I've met here, including you." Liam reported. "In the end she was very happy to hear about my plans. She's been hoping to expand the scale of her operation, but she feels constrained by the location."

"Constrained?"

"Constrained by the difficulty of bringing customers into a blind canyon filled with more than 200 raiders." he laughed.

Maggie snorted and fell back on the bed. "This isn't exactly Las Vegas, is it Liam?" she mused.

"Even Las Vegas isn't Las Vegas anymore, love." he replied. "How far is it to Megaton?"

"If we start early we can be there by nightfall." she answered.

"Then let's start early; I've got a good feeling about this."

………………**..**

Interlude: _The Citadel_

"Is this girl, Vikia, recovered from her trip?"

"For the most part, yes. She must have travelled non-stop to reach us this quickly."

"Have you begun your interrogation?"

"Yes."

"Is she being cooperative?"

"Indeed. I would say that she is eager to help us in any way she can."

"Does she know what she is?"

"She's beginning to accept her nature, but until yesterday I don't believe she had a clue. Oh, on a subconscious level she must have been aware that she was different from other people, but her defense mechanisms prevented that knowledge from finding its way to the surface."

"What about us, Reginald? Do _we_ know what she is; do we know _exactly?"_

"We know relatively little about this ,,, _woman_, old friend, but we do know the most important thing. We know what she _is_."

"And that is ….?"

"She is an android."

Owyn Lyons, elder of the most honorable order of the Brotherhood of Steel, heaved a deep sigh. "No matter how often I hear those words I still find it hard to believe." The woman had been at the Citadel for almost a week and no one had suspected a thing. But for a fortuitous accident on the firing range they would have parted company with no one being the wiser – including her!

Lyons was astonished – there really was no other word for it – with the preliminary results of the physical examination. After she had accidentally wandered onto the practice range, Paladin Gunny and several initiates had seen her move at what appeared to be superhuman speed to avoid the fusillade. The bullets that she hadn't been able to avoid had bounced off her _skin_! She seemed as surprised as anyone by her seemingly miraculous escape. At first she had sought to minimize the physical anomalies. The courtyard of the Citadel, however, was constantly monitored and the holotape of the event showed, if anything, a more remarkable performance than the eyewitnesses reported.

The film showed a humanoid figure moving more rapidly than any flesh-and-blood creature could possibly manage. Her skin repelled nearly every projectile. Where her skin had been punctured, however, normal human tissue and organs were revealed. The most exacting tests showed only a normal, human female. It was this incongruous result that Lyons found incredible and every scribe in the biological and physical sciences found maddening.

"This is driving our people to distraction." Not normally given to displays of frustration, Reginald Rothchild seemed to be at his wit's end. "The only people capable of creating such a construct are the _Commonwealth_. We know almost nothing of their ideology, their military capability and most importantly, their _intentions_.

"One of these days we will have to reconnoiter old New England, Reginald, but not today." Owyn Lyons was perfectly capable of taking the long view where it was appropriate, but in this instance his instincts told him that something important was happening almost under his nose. In terms of the old proverb, investigating the Commonwealth was akin to the initial objective of draining the swamp, while a large group of raiders acting in a disciplined manner toward an unknown goal was a distraction equivalent to being up to your ass in alligators.

"Now let's hear what the girl has to say about Evergreen Mills."

…………………

* * *

**References:**

As fans of historical fiction may have noticed, the name of the Raider squad leader, Rikki Sharpe, is a nod to Bernard Cornwell, author of, among other works, the _Sharpe_ series of books based on the exploits of a fictional British soldier/officer in the conflict between Napoleonic France and the British Empire in the late 18th and early 19th century. Mr. Cornwell writes, in my opinion, the best descriptions of battles since Julius Caesar wrote about his conquest of Gaul.

The proverb recalled by elder Owyn Lyons has many variations. The general form is "When you're up to your ass in alligators, it's easy to forget that the initial objective was to drain the swamp."

I've probably done too much reading for my own good. As a result my story is replete with obscure and annoying literary references. No prize whatsoever will be awarded to those of you who point them out, but I _will_ certainly give you credit for your perspicacity at the bottom of the next chapter. A dubious distinction perhaps, but required under the _credit where credit is due_ clause of the FanFiction guild.

I made up that last bit. (See #3).


	5. Chapter 5

To everyone who has read these chapters and especially those of you who have reviewed them – Thank You. I love the game, and I write about things that I have imagined as I've played it. As a first-time writer I must say that's it's really a thrill to find that others find interesting some of the same things that I do.

………………**..**

"Politics is the art of controlling your environment." _Hunter S. Thompson_

Chapter Five: _Journey to the East_

"Megaton is just a few miles east of here, but there's nothing in between." Maggie explained to Liam. "You find some robots wandering up from the RobCo facility from time to time but you can avoid them over rocky ground."

They had hoped to leave early, making Megaton in one, long day's journey. Now it was nearly noon and Liam had only now finished his instructions for the foundry crews as they readied the old machines for operation. Rotted gaskets, rusted piping and a host of problems with the gauges had all required Liam's attention before Maggie, their guide Sturm and he could get under way. Now, with a myriad of minor reclamation projects in progress under Hammer's supervision, Liam felt he could take a few days to begin the … _diplomatic_ leg of his plan.

The small party exited the canyon and turned east up a gradual slope that rose to the Calverton Church just to the north of their route. By the time they reached the ridgeline the church loomed on their left. From this high ground they could see the ruins of DC to the east and the top of Tenpenny Tower to the south. Sturm, a big, affable fellow carrying an enormous pack, suggested they stop for a drink. Liam and Maggie sipped purified water while Sturm quaffed a bottle of beer that Liam eyed wistfully. He was quite fit after his long walk from the Pitt, but he knew that this was no place to dull his senses with alcohol. They moved on using the emaciated spire of the Washington Monument as their pole star. Megaton was a bit north of their line-of-sight to the structure.

A northwest wind picked up as they moved down into the broken land west of the Potomac River. The terrain was nothing but a series of rocky outcroppings, gullies and steep-sloped hills. The sun had reached its zenith and was blazing with a ferocious intensity. They were sweating freely despite a freshening breeze and were tempted to shed layers in an effort to cool down. In the Wasteland, however, a layer usually meant armor and armor kept you alive.

The day became warm, then hot, then oppressive.

"I was hoping we still had a couple of weeks of spring left." breathed Maggie.

"It seems to get hot earlier each year." panted Sturm under the weight of his load. "One of these days winter is going to disappear altogether."

Liam glanced up at the sun. It was beautiful, hanging in a cloudless sky, but it also felt like a thousand dragons were belching fire at every pore of his body. It was quite nearly roasting them all alive; death staved off only by frequent rests in the shade, plenty of liquids and the earth's eternal spin that would eventually bring them to nightfall.

………………**..**

As the sun began to sink low in the sky the small party approached the ruins of an elevated highway. Among the pitted stanchions ahead Liam noticed flashing lights. His senses immediately shifted into overdrive and moments later he heard faint gunshots that confirmed a firefight in progress ahead, somewhere between them and their destination. He raised an arm with his fist closed to signal a halt, then brought his open palm to his eyebrows to indicate "watch". Most raider clans had some kind of rudimentary battle language that was communicated by hand and arm signals. The Khans were no exception and because they were more than 200 years old their language was both efficient and flexible.

Liam stood perhaps ten feet in front of Maggie with Sturm a rear guard some twenty feet behind her. The raider encampment was in a sheltered hollow some 80 feet south of their position and perhaps 20 feet below. Eight to ten raiders had taken a defensive posture standing off an unknown enemy. They crouched behind rocks, a highway stanchion and a shack that they had built in the lee of the collapsed edifice.

Their assailants soon made themselves known. The bestial forms of three super mutants emerged in a line from the tall scrub flanking the entrance to the clearing. The first was helmetless and thinly armored. He walked straight into the raiders' defensive positions carrying a sledgehammer and made for the first available enemy. Every weapon in the camp opened up on the huge creature who bellowed his death throes and collapsed in front of the raider shack.

This initial success almost proved to be the raiders undoing, the distraction allowing the well-armored and Minigun-wielding Brute to enter the camp unmolested. He sprayed bullets in an arc, immediately cutting down the three poorly-protected raiders who were returning fire from behind a rock in the middle of the grounds. A super mutant Master trailed the Brute, carrying a fully automatic Chinese Assault Rifle which he used to suppress fire from the shack standing at the southern end of the camp. He traded volleys with the shack's defenders, finally kicking the door in and charging inside. The door banged shut behind him and the sound of gunfire echoed shrilly from within the rusted tin shelter before falling silent.

The Brute continued to scatter bullets at the remaining raiders who were huddled among the rocks at the base of the concrete pillar. When he aimed his gun in one direction, a raider in a different spot would pop up and take a shot, ducking down before the Brute could swing the great gun back toward his tormentor. Not a bad strategy, thought Liam, at least until the Brute decides to take the fight into close quarters.

As if reading Liam's mind, the Brute gave a huff and rushed forward ignoring the single shots from the raiders' lighter weapons. He reached the final redoubt and began to turn in a circle, firing indiscriminately. Then fortune finally smiled on the raiders as the Minigun ran empty. Or perhaps it wasn't a smile at all, but a smirk. The undeterred Brute turned the Minigun around, grasping the hot barrel in his big hands and bludgeoning the remaining raiders with the stock of the gun. One, then a second raider fell; their skulls caved in. Then the heat of the barrel finally registered in the Brute's brain and he dropped the gun with a cry of pain.

The last two raiders had emptied their rifles and were desperately firing pistols at the burnt and bullet-ridden Brute. In a final act of defiance, he walked straight into the barrel of the pistol being fired by a wild-eyed woman until the retort of the gun stopped, replaced by a sickening _click, click, click. _ The Brute died with his hands around her neck as the woman's companion at last put him down with a shot directly to the head. The raider turned to the fallen woman but she had obviously been the penultimate casualty of the battle, her head dangling at an obtuse angle to her torso. The last man standing threw his arms to the sky and howled, pumping his pistol in a cathartic gambol.

Liam extended an arm behind him and swung it forward briskly, telling Maggie and Sturm to join him on the high ground. He then extended his left arm with a closed fist to form a line abreast. His team flanked him and waited. The raider below had turned his back to them, surveying the carnage that had been his home. Liam cocked one arm in a fist and extended his index finger and thumb, miming the pulling of a trigger. This told Maggie and Sturm that the raider was armed with only a pistol – in contrast, a fully extended arm would denote a rifle.

The raider below finally turned and noticed the party.

"You wanna try me?" he shouted. "Who's next? Whoo Hoo, I'm hot as a pistol!" That said, he raised his gun and shot in their direction, missing wildly and laughing madly.

Liam calmly raised his sniper rifle and put a bullet between his eyes. Sturm chuckled and shook his head; Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Jet Head." Liam explained.

"If that's the case, then I'm glad you haven't shot me." Sturm commented dryly.

"He couldn't recognize friends from enemies even if we weren't wearing this Wastelander gear." Liam elaborated. "Besides, even if we were in full Khan dress we would have been ambushed by _either_ of these groups given half a chance. Were just lucky they took each other out. Now let's check the camp."

Mollified, Sturm and Maggie followed Liam down into the camp and confirmed 9 dead. The only enclosed structure was the shack. It had fallen silent shortly after the super mutant Master entered. Liam heard a shudder as they approached the closed door. He pointed to Sturm and drew a box in the air – _window_; he then pointed to himself and drew a three-sided rectangle open at the bottom – _door_. He motioned for Maggie to cover the back by extending his arm parallel to the ground and bent at the elbow and then swinging it in a back-and-forth motion pointing toward the rear. There might well be another exit and he wanted no chances taken.

Liam moved to the door and kicked it open, rifle raised. He stepped back as Sturm shoved his shotgun through the window to complement Liam's distraction. Liam moved back into the door frame at a crouch. He needn't have bothered; three raiders lay on the floor in a dance of death with the mutant Master. Liam backed out of the little hut and tallied the butchers' bill – thirteen dead. Liam wasn't suspicious, but still.

"Let's move out; we need to bed down for the night, but not here." Liam ordered. "No telling whether there are scouting parties on the way back to this camp right now."

……………**..**

The three raiders made their way into what was at one time the town of Springvale. Maggie looked around, then oriented on a home that looked a bit less run down than the others. She led the others to the front door, knocked and entered without waiting for an invitation.

"Hello Silver." she said.

A tall, slender woman emerged from the kitchen, asking "Who the hell is … oh … Hi Maggie. Long time no see." The origin of her name was obvious; her shoulder-length hair fell in a neat cut that was a perfect complement to her outfit – a pre-war dress.

"Hi Silver, how's tricks?" Maggie asked.

"I'm out of the business. I found myself some new digs." the woman explained.

"We need to meet with Colin Moriarty. We need to make his acquaintance."

"Shit, did you ever come to the wrong place." Silver laughed bitterly. "Moriarty wants me _dead_. He sent some kid to do the job a few months ago but we reach an … _understanding._ Since then I've been lying low. You're going to need to find someone else to make the introductions."

"Is Jericho still living in Megaton?" asked Maggie.

"Yeah, and he's still an asshole, in case you were wondering." Silver remarked. "From the front gate just follow the walkway to the left; it's the second house in. I should mention that the _first_ house in belongs to the Lone Wanderer, and the first house on the _right_ is Lucas Simms'. You can hardly swing a dead cat in Megaton these days without hitting some self-righteous fool who wants to know if you're worthy to visit that dump."

"We'll need to stay the night." Maggie said a statement rather than a request.

Silver, to her credit, didn't miss a beat. "Bed down anywhere. I'll see you in the morning."

………………

**Note:** My intent was to write just one chapter covering the trip to Megaton and the events therein. As Tolkien once wrote, however, "the story grew in the telling." I now have nearly 5,000 words and the crew has yet to hear Deputy Weld say, in his signature monotone - "Wel-come to Meg-a-ton."

A 10,000 word chapter would not only be unwieldy, but would probably be a better sleep aid than Ambien. My solution is to break up the narrative into multiple parts. What you get, then, is Chapter 5: The journey to Megaton; Chapter 6: The interview at the Citadel; Chapter 7: Events at Megaton, and so forth. What surprises me is not that I've found it so easy to put down on paper (actually, on a word processor) what it is that I have to say, but that it's so hard to limit myself to saying only those things that are essential to the story. I guess that's why we have editors.

I was once the Managing Editor of my school's Law Review. My job was, among many other duties, to cut the fat from legal articles before they were published. At last I can empathize with the authors to whom I returned copy covered in red carats and squiggly lines. I think it must be every author's dream to see their editor hoisted on his own petard.


	6. Chapter 6

"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future." – _Oscar Wilde_

………………

Chapter 6: _Interview at the Citadel_

"Now dear, are you certain you're fully recovered from your ordeal?" Owyn Lyons spoke solicitously in an attempt to put Vikia at ease.

"I feel fine, Elder. I really want to thank you for taking me in; I didn't know where else to turn." the girl said.

"You are certainly welcome here, Vikia, but can you tell us why you think that the Brotherhood of Steel can help you?" he asked.

"It's simple, really; the Brotherhood are the only ones who can protect me from the Institute." she responded, matter-of-factly.

Owyn Lyons shot a look to his right at Reginald Rothchild. They sat in large, straight-backed chairs, austere with no cushions in the best Brotherhood tradition. The room, too, was Spartan. There were no rugs, ornaments or _objects d'art _to clutter the functionality of what once was a conference room in the headquarters of the world's most imposing military power. There was a broad, floor to ceiling window overlooking the Potomac River and on the far bank, the Tidal Basin. The window was framed in faded drapery and the glass had bubbled and gone wavy in the past 200 years. The brilliant late morning sun shone through in a dappled mélange of hue and shadow.

Rothchild leaned forward, unable to contain his curiosity. "Is that where you were … _born_, then, at the Institute?"

"I was _created_ there, Scribe Rothchild, an _artificial_ life form so they tell me. I have to say, though; I don't _feel_ artificial. At bottom, I guess there's no way to tell for certain whether the way in which I experience the world in the same as that of a biological woman. From what I can see, ordinary women have hope and dreams, they love and they hate, and they have fears – for themselves and for the people they love. I feel all of those things too, especially the fear part; I've had more than my fill of fear in this life."

She paused for a moment, seeming to gather her thoughts and then continued her narrative.

"I remember the day I first became aware. I didn't come online with emotions; I had to learn those through my interactions with the others."

"Others like you?" Lyons prompted.

"A few were like me, but most were older models." she explained. My name – my _designation_ – is A3-17. Only 21 of us were created. I was told that the first 15 units failed to mature to self-awareness. Of the last six, five became runners and the last became a Hunter for the Synth Retention Bureau.

At the mention of the Hunter, Vikia turned away from the two men for the first time. It may have been a trick of the light, but Lyons thought she paled just a bit. Just how accurate had they made these androids, anyway?

"The first four runners were captured and returned to the Institute." she explained softly once she had steadied herself. "I could feel the Hunter on my trail, too. Just when I was certain that I was about to be apprehended, the pursuit stopped. I've always wondered what happened to him, the Hunter I mean. Did he die, was he recalled to the Institute, or is he still out there looking for me?"

Lyons felt a stab of empathy for this unfortunate creature. His critics called this a weakness, exploited by those who would have him deviate from the historical mission of the Brotherhood to seek out and preserve the technology of the past. His supporters saw it as a source of great strength from which all the members of the East Coast Brotherhood could draw from and emulate.

If you asked the common Wastelander he or she would tell you 'the more empathy the better' – particularly when it came from the Brotherhood. They are seen as fighting to preserve humanity from the depredations of the super mutants, and if they are arrogant and somewhat standoffish, well that's a small price to pay for one's life.

Scribe Rothchild continued the questioning, bringing Lyons' attention back to the matter at hand. "How did you end up in the Capital Wasteland after you escaped?" he asked. "That's quite a trip to have made on your own, even given your considerable resources."

"I stayed off the main tracks, and I've always been able to cover terrain that would give other people fits. Now I guess I know why. I also travelled at night because I see quite well in the dark. I skirted New York and the ruins of a couple of other big cities. When I crossed the Pautuxent River into the northern Wasteland I began to see scattered settlements without any major population centers. I thought that this would be a good place for me to hide because the Institute would be unlikely to send agents to such a desolate region."

She took a breath, preparing to continue and Rothchild found himself wondering whether she really _needed_ to breathe. What was essential for all human life might simply be an affectation for an android, a learned response to put others at ease and to divert attention from her essential _otherness._ "I ran into a caravan soon after passing the ruins of Old Olney." she continued smoothly. "They hired me as a guard after I walked into their camp one evening without being detected by their sentries. They were bound for Canterbury Commons."

"The last thing I wanted was to travel the Wasteland meeting new people, so I left the caravan at the Commons. I had some caps and there were plenty of abandoned buildings to make a home in. I called myself Athena – not because she was a goddess, but because it sounded close to 'A-Three', my designation.

A few months after I arrived I had an unusual visitor. The woman called herself Victoria Watts. She told me she represented an organization dedicated to helping artificial life forms such as myself. Apparently their membership includes disaffected employees of the Institute who managed to place an electronic tag in each of the androids. Because the power output was so low, however, the only way to activate the tracking device was to canvass the terrain in question parcel by parcel."

Vikia turned in the direction of the window that overlooking the Potomac, then shook her head and swung back to face Elder Lyons. "I could hardly believe it; they spent _months_ looking for me. As for Miss Watts, she could hardly believe that I made a trip of several hundred miles from the Commonwealth to the Capital Wasteland. She said that they had helped people like me before, but in my case I had done most of their work already. The only thing left to do would be a facial reconstruction to assure my anonymity."

"Before Victoria could arrange for the surgery, though, the raiders came." She turned inward again, placing her cup on the small table between them and gazing at the floor.

"Perhaps we should break for now, Vikia." Lyons suggested. "We can continue later."

"No." she said, "I'm OK. I just needed a minute." She poured a cup of water and turned to the window where the view to the east revealed that the roiling morning colors had fled, replaced by a more subdued luminescence.

"Where was I? Oh yeah, the raiders. Would it surprise you to learn that I dream, Elder? Well I do, although sometimes I wish I were incapable of something so ineffably _human_. When the raiders came it was like waking from a dream into a nightmare. They arrived just before dawn. They weren't even trying to be quiet or anything. They just shot up the place and took whatever they wanted. I can still picture three of the raiders breaking down the door to Mr. Pacion's house. He yelled for his son Derek to run out the back while he held them off. Derek is a good kid and he did what his Pa told him to do. I can't imagine how hard it was for the poor boy; he had lost his mother in another attack three years earlier."

"I was watching from the street. The last thing I remember is running for the Pacions' house and one of the raiders turning to throw what must have been a grenade in my direction. The next thing I knew I woke up in a rough camp several miles from the Commons. I didn't remember anything. I didn't remember the Institute, my escape or the attack on the Commons until last week when the raiders I was crewing with were ambushed at the power station."

Vikia rose and began pacing. She paused with her back to the men and remembered ….

"_Hey, wake up, bitch!" A kick in the ribs, a hand on her shoulder shaking her – hard. She rolled to her back and bent at the waist, trying to sit up. A mistake. Her head exploded in white light and she fell back to the rough mat on which she had been tossed. _

"_What's yer name?" a harsh voice demanded. "Yer name, yer name! Stupid bitch!" _

"_Shut up, Spike! Can't you see she's fucked up? Don't mess with her, not yet anyway." A woman's voice, as harsh as the man's, but then she pressed a cool, moist towel to her forehead. "Got your bell rung by a fragger, honey." she said. "Just lie still and it'll all come back to you." _

Except it didn't; not for almost three years. She hardly remembered the trip to Paradise Falls. At the slaver town she was fed, healed and then marched north to the Pitt. She began as a slave working in the foundry, but within her first month on the factory floor she had been promoted to a supervisory position and given a chance to join the raiders. Programmed, in part, for survival, she eagerly accepted the opportunity.

Eventually she was assigned to the perimeter defense. Her interpersonal skills might be lacking but her expertise with a sniper rifle was legendary among the raiders. She might have spent the rest of her considerable life span at the Pitt; unaware that she was an android engineered to live much longer than humans and immune to the mutating effects of the local radiation.

The appearance of the Lone Wanderer changed all of that. Throwing his support behind the rebel faction led by Wernher, in just a few, short days he had brought down the power structure of the mill complex and freed the slaves laboring there. She had been patrolling on the roof of one of the out-buildings when the uprising took place allowing her to escape the worst of the fighting. She retraced her steps to the Capital Wasteland, the only place with which she was familiar. This time, however, she returned as a raider.

Vikia drifted from one gang to another, shifting allegiance when a crew was wiped out, disbanded or joined up with another gang. For the past few months she had been running with the raiders from the Fairfax ruins and the Jury St. Metro. The tunnels at the Metro were a warren in which the raiders could hide when the Brotherhood Outcasts from Fort Independence made their occasional sweeps of the area. The two raider strongholds were connected by roads flanked by concrete barriers and heavy underbrush – ideal terrain for stealth and ambush.

One morning last month Vikia had been seated in a sniper's perch on the roof of Hank's Electrical Supply when her crew walked into a firefight between the Outcasts and elements of a Talon Company battalion. The raiders foolishly entered the fray on the side of the mercs. They paid the price. When the last Raptor went down the Outcasts opened up on the raiders and slaughtered them to a man. Vikia cowered on the hot tar of the roof, her sniper rifle ineffective against the power armor of the Outcasts.

When the field of battle was abandoned by the victors, she climbed down into the store, out the front door and headed in the only direction she could. The Outcasts had moved off to the south, so any attempt to regroup at the Ruins would be suicidal. To the East was Megaton; no place for a single raider. North was super mutant country and no love was lost between the raiders and the mutants. To the west, however, were the twin possibilities of the Talon Company HQ at Fort Bannister and the Raider stronghold at Evergreen Mills. She walked into the setting sun.

"Two weeks ago I wandered into Evergreen Mills. They were acquainted with several members of my former crew. Given my skills with sniper weapons and melee combat they were happy to recruit me. There was some kind of stir in the camp; more than was usual in the other raider camps that I've seen. Some guy had just arrived from out of the area – from the Pitt people said. Naturally, that caught my attention. I remembered the name and I'd seen him at the mill a few times. He was supposed to be some kind of engineer, a real technology freak. I've seen guys with that kind of passion for the way things work before, at the Institute. But those guys were nothing like Liam Conal."

"Liam Conal?" Elder Lyons asked. He sat bolt upright and swung to face Rothchild as Vikia nodded her assent. "Reginald, please send one of the Initiates to find Daniel and Sarah. Get them in here immediately; I want them to sit in on the rest of the briefing. This just went from being an interesting story to a Priority Alert."

The Scribe walked to the door and spoke briefly to the attending initiate before returning to his seat. "Please refresh my memory, Owyn; who is this Liam Conal and why do you look as though someone has just walked across your grave?"

……………**.**

The Elder paused, considering the Scribe's question. He stood and slowly strode to the window, hands clasped behind his back and eyes resting on the white-capped waves that the freshening wind had whipped to attention. The sun was now totally obscured by clouds and he could feel a storm coming; nature was gathering its fury.

His eyes glazed over as he recalled his journey from the west coast of the continent to the east. So much hope, so many battles; he could name each and every man and woman he had lost. And nowhere had he suffered more casualties than at _the Pitt._ At the time he thought that the power of the local slavers and raiders had been broken beyond any hope of recovery. He had not reckoned on one of his own, Knight Ishmael Ashur, mustering the survivors into a well-organized military and industrial power.

And yet Lyons was not a man who allowed regret to interfere with his duties. What can't be changed must be endured, and before the endurance became too unpleasant, he intended to determine the exact nature of the threat posed by the appearance of Liam Conal.

Before the Brotherhood's expedition passed through the Pitt on its way to the District of Columbia, Liam Conal was already a leader among the local 'pirates'. Conal would no doubt dispute this designation, but Lyons felt the term fit the facts. His rag-tag body of raiders, sailors and adventurers interdicted river traffic in order to place a local _pilot_ on board. True, the man seldom did damage to these boats, and only then when he was fired upon first, but he boarded every ship that passed through his _territory _and subjected them to a _tax _in the form of the pilot's _fee._

It would be splitting hairs to argue the value of the _services_ he provided, but an argument could be made that they were not only valuable but, in fact, necessary. The Allegheny, Ohio and Monongahelarivers ran deep and fast before the Great War, but after 200 years of drought they were a shallow maze of sandbars and cul-de-sacs; only someone with knowledge of the ever-changing channels could hope to navigate them without running aground. Worse still, once beached, a boat would be an impediment and a significant danger to other river traffic.

This practice actually had historical precedent. Requiring foreign vessels to hire a local pilot to navigate the channels of a salt-water port or a fresh water river is a well established nautical tradition. Conal's subordinates had sent the Brotherhood documentation to justify their practices, including several books on the subject. "_The Allegheny Pilot", _by Edwin L. Babbitt is the story of a pilot who worked the Allegheny River in the early 1800's. The book contains a complete chart of the Allegheny River showing the islands and bars and low water channel, from Warren to Pittsburgh, with directions for navigating the same with rafts, flat-boats, etc. Lyons' qualms, however, were based not on the practice itself but on its use as a pretext for imposing steep _tariffs _on the traders that plied their trade on the rivers.

Lyons had returned the books with his regards and his promise to consider Liam's position. Liam communicated his opinion that even if most of the traders were familiar enough to avoid being caught up on a sandbar, all it took was one captain who overestimated his river skills to block the passage for any number of boats that followed. Further, when a boat _did _run aground, only this loose federation of locals had the requisite tonnage to haul a vessel off a sandbar.

Lyons, as he had promised, did indeed consider these arguments and weighed them against the protests of the merchants of the area who had appealed to the Brotherhood for relief. The next morning the Brotherhood sank every _piloting_ boat that it could find, and Liam Conal was, effectively, out of business.

……………**.**

A soft rapping brought the Elder out of his reverie. Scribe Rothchild was opening the door when the imminent storm introduced itself in a peal of thunder. The rumbling rose to a crescendo, then held the note briefly before withdrawing to a low reverberation. As the sound abated the form of Sarah Lyons appeared in the doorway. Owyn's heart ached, as always, at the sight of his only child. Lovely as Aphrodite, stern as a Valkyrie, her piercing blue eyes quickly scanned the room, fixed on Vikia and then out the window at the storm that was shaking the building.

Behind Sarah, a man followed. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment as lightning flashed on the heels of the thunder. There was something almost …ethereal about his image framed in the light of the storm, its glow seemingly mirrored within him. Then the door slammed in his wake and the moment was lost.

"Vikia," Owyn Lyons said, "allow me to introduce Sentinel Lyons and Daniel Cole."

"Hello Sarah, Daniel." Vikia greeted the pair with poise, shaking hands. They sat down with the Elder and Scribe Rothchild who had resumed their seats. Suddenly Vikia's head snapped up as in recognition. "Wait, I've heard your name before … the Lone Wanderer? Are you the one Three Dog talks about?"

Daniel gave a smile that seemed too jaded in one so young; "Don't believe everything you hear, even from Three Dog." he said.

"Nonsense," rejoined Rothchild, "lad's a hero. Many of his exploits are never made public. You couldn't be in better hands."

Daniel and Vikia both looked askance at the Scribe. _Better hands?_

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Reginald." the Elder cautioned, shooting a meaningful glance in his friend's direction. "For now we should get Sarah and Daniel up to speed and then hear the rest of Vikia's story."

Turning to his daughter, Owyn Lyons briefly summarized the tale he had heard in the course of the interview and explained the reason he had interrupted Vikia's narrative. He asked Vikia to continue from the point where she joined the Evergreen Mills raiders, giving particular emphasis to anything she could remember about Liam Conal and his plans for the outlaw community.

"I was drafted by the Huns as soon as I had a meal and grabbed a few hours sleep." she began. "They were impressed with my shooting; well, that and the first guy who grabbed my ass got his lights punched out. I mean I don't like to brag but I'm super-mutant strong. Guy's probably still seeing double."

"They build 'em to last in the Commonwealth." Daniel dryly remarked.

Vikia shot him a look and said "That's right, and by the way, I'm still not interested."

Now it was Daniel's turn to absorb the others' scrutiny. "Long story." he said. He seemed to redden slightly. The elder wondered if he might be coming down with something. "Please continue." Daniel said to Vikia.

"The thing is, a lot of the Huns were moving out the next morning so there wasn't much in the way of small talk. Maggie, that's Miss Gray …"

"Miss Gray?" this from Scribe Rothchild.

"Margaret Gray. She's the leader of the raiders at the Mills. Everyone calls her Maggie. They said she was an old friend of Liam's; then again they said he punched her out when he first saw her. I guess he got over it because they were sharing her room when I left."

"Let's stay on topic people." Sarah said. A no-nonsense leader at the best of times, she was beginning to feel frustrated by the disjointed nature of the narrative.

"OK. As I was saying, Maggie talked to each section leader to ask them what they thought about reopening the mill. By the time they got to us it sounded like a done deal. I'd like to see their faces when they realize what they've signed on for." she laughed. "Making steel is hot, dirty work."

"What are they planning to do with this steel?" asked Daniel.

"Sheet metal for construction, repair parts for guns and equipment; that's just a couple of the things I heard. Maggie said "We're going to 'shit steel and piss water.'" The girl had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"What's that mean?" Daniel pressed.

"The first part is obvious. I'm not sure what they mean about the water; the only thing I know for sure is that the mill is going to reopen. I'm not sure what a mill has to do with water, but whatever they're planning has something to do with Megaton." Vikia said.

"I _live_ in Megaton; my _home_ is there." grated Daniel. "What do you mean by 'something to do' with Megaton?"

"I heard Maggie tell Hammer – he's in charge of the foundry - that they were going to start with Megaton. I'm sorry but that's all I know."

"Think harder." said Daniel. "Could you have forgotten something?"

"I don't forget _anything – ever!" _she quietly pointed out. "Not even the trauma that most people get to bury in their subconscious. It's all there, instantly accessible, anytime, anywhere. So the answer is no, I haven't forgotten anything. That's just all there is to tell."

The group fell silent for a moment, reflecting on the things they might like to forget and the things they might already have forgotten. How many things had each of them suppressed? How many of life's little trials and insults? Owyn Lyons thought of the terrible trip that he and Reginald along with an 8 year-old Sarah had made. How comforting it would be to block out the worst of it. Sarah thought of the endless engagements with the DC super mutants. She thought she'd be happy just to be able to get them out of her dreams. And Daniel – well Daniel had seen enough blood and violence, manipulation and betrayal, and enough destruction of the human spirit in the past year to empathize with anyone who was unable to put the least amount of distance between herself and her memories.

"Alright then Vikia, I understand." he said. "Why don't you just tell us the rest?"

"Well, after those few days of rest I was sent out to bolster the crew that was set up in ambush at the power station to the south. The rest is the same story I told when I arrived – we ourselves were ambushed and in the ensuing chaos something triggered my memories. One second I'm lining up a tall man in a long duster, the next I'm flashing back to the Institute, my trip south and countless firefights and skirmishes. I fell to my knees. My head was swimming while bullets flew all around me."

"One bullet creased my arm and another clipped me in the ear. That brought me back to the battle. I realized that I didn't want any part of it. I sprinted into the woods and ran for hours. While I was running I kept thinking about where to go. I considered going back to Canterbury Commons, but after living as a raider for three years I just wouldn't know how to explain myself to the people there. They've been brutalized for so many years by those thugs that I could never expect them to consider my amnesia as a valid excuse for murder and mayhem. As for the raiders, I'd already been victimized twice by them; first when I was kidnapped and second when I was co-opted into their ranks at the Pitt. There's no way I ever want to see a raider camp again.

To make matters worse, I'm sure that the Institute hasn't forgotten about me. They have considerable resources and a long reach. I needed somewhere to hide; somewhere to which the average Wastelander would never have access. Of all the places I'd heard of in my travels only the Citadel met my needs. I'd like to thank God that you took me in, but I don't know which god would hear an android's prayers.

"That is an incredible tale, Vikia." Owyn Lyons said. "I thank you for trusting us with your history. You may remain with us for as long as you wish. If you ever decide to leave, I only ask that you show the same discretion for our secrets that we will show for yours. In the meantime, I have to ask you something, though I hesitate to do so."

"Nothing is free in the Wasteland, Elder." Vikia said levelly. "We all have to pay the piper, whether we call the tune or not. The best you can hope for is to choose _which_ piper you are going to pay. I don't know if humans are born with an innate moral compass. I do know that I wasn't; nor was I given any moral _training_ at the Institute. I've had to decide on my own which actions I can accept in myself and which ones I cannot."

"I've been working for the wrong side for a long time. My amnesia is cold comfort to my victims; they're no less dead for it. Nor can I cite my _programming_ for survival as an excuse; humans are imprinted with the same programming in the form of _instinct_ and they don't offer the need to survive as an excuse for their villainy." Her analysis was as cold and analytical as her memory. Vikia squarely faced her past and the nature of her actions because she could not do otherwise.

"It seems to me that the Brotherhood is trying to bring some measure of _order_ to the chaos of this Wasteland. For someone like me, with a linear, binary mind this has a very strong appeal. The only way for me to make amends for my past is to work toward a better future for the people that I've preyed upon. Long story short; if you want my help, I'm in.

Vikia thus concluded her remarks, meeting the gaze of each of the others. Looks were exchanged around the room. Finally, Elder Lyons asked the Lone Wanderer, "This is your call, Daniel. How do you want to proceed?"

Daniel drummed the fingers of his right hand on the table and pondered the options. Sending Vikia back to Evergreen Mills was simply too risky; she might well be executed for fleeing the field of battle and for failing to report back to her base in a timely manner. At the Citadel, however, her skills were wasted. There was no better defended location in the area; her contribution would be superfluous. No, if Vikia really wanted to make a difference she was going to have to be placed in harm's way; she would accompany him to Megaton.

"She's going with me," he said, "and I'm going to Megaton. It's time I spent some time at home. I want introduce all my friends to my new girlfriend." he said with a straight face.

Vikia snapped around to face him, aghast. Her jaw dropped open and her eyes went wide with indignation. Then she closed her mouth into a tight line, narrowed her eyes and nodded. "Of course, we need a cover story don't we? Just don't get any ideas."

Sarah looked at him like … a concerned big sister?, a jealous lover? She was so hard to read. She had no right to feel jealousy, no right at all. Why she …. Well never mind, it's water under the bridge.

Vikia noticed Sarah's reaction and that the others seemed amused. Well they were all men, so of course they would be. The Institute had engineered her as a fully-functional female of the species, but she had no experience of what it meant to be a woman. She did feel human emotions, from the sublime to the base, but she had no frame of reference for them. She had never had a real friend, never lain with a lover, never felt the bond of a family. So this role would be a challenge. Good. She was programmed to meet her challenges, meet them and overcome them.

She composed her features and asked Daniel "Well, what are we waiting for?"

……………**..**

As things turned out, they were waiting for the weather.

The decision having been made, Elder Lyons accompanied the pair to the armory for supplies and armament. "You must leave immediately or at least as soon as this damned storm abates." he said with uncharacteristic ferocity.

"Harker!" he said, turning to one of the Initiates, "Why didn't we have advance notice of this storm?"

"I'm sorry, sir. One can't always predict the weather." the man answered.

"No, I suppose you're right. Some things you never see coming."

………………

Next chapter: Liam, Maggie and Sturm at Megaton; the Lone Wanderer and Vikia at Megaton; Colin Moriarty, Lucas Simms, Jericho, Gob, Doc Church, Mr. Burke and a cast of thous … oh well, maybe 11 or 12, all at Megaton. Not to be missed.


	7. Chapter 7

A person with a new idea is a crank until the idea succeeds. – _Mark_ _Twain_

………………**..**

Chapter Seven: _Road to Megaton_

"Bleah! What is this shit?" asked Maggie as she spit out a mouthful of hot, black liquid.

"Oh, you don't like the coffee?" replied Silver.

"No way this is coffee, Silver. I know my coffee, I've gone to great lengths to scav coffee, and sister, this is _not_ coffee." Maggie gestured to the coffee pot with her cup, accusingly.

"Oh, OK. It's just chicory and some other roots that I get from Crazy Wolfgang when he passes through Springdale. I'm sorry Maggs, but if I had the caps to buy coffee, I'd be spending them on Med-X, ya know?"

"It's alright honey." Maggie said, softening, "I'll leave you some of ours."

She heard the front door open and turned in time to see Sturm walk in followed by a weathered-looking man in leather armor and carrying what looked to be a Chinese assault rifle over his shoulder. At first glance he seemed to be bald, but this was an illusion evoked by his close-cropped hair. His facial hair, by contrast, was abundant and, despite his apparent years, still dark with only a few flecks of grey.

"Jericho!" cried Maggie, jumping out of her chair to clasp the older man in an affectionate embrace.

"Hi-ya, Maggs." he replied sheepishly, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Been a long time."

Maggie stepped back and took a long look at the old raider who returned the scrutiny in equal measure. He saw the woman that he had taken under his wing all those years ago, age wearing better upon her than it had on him. Her hair was still dark and luxuriant, tied back the way she always wore it. Her face seemed thinner to him, which only served to enhance the effect that her piercing, deep blue eyes had on everyone she met. Her ready smile gave way to her welcoming, warm contralto.

"Too long, you old coot, way too long. How've you been?

"I can't complain." he said. "I'm bored out of my mind, but I'm alive and I own a house, even if I am poor as a mole rat." He sniffed again and Maggie noticed Sturm doing the same.

"Sturm, the sun's barely up and you two are already hitting the chems?" she said disapprovingly. "We have work to do today, so don't you go getting all fucked up before we start."

"What's this? Someone getting fucked up without _me_?" Liam joined the group in the front room. "That wouldn't have happened twenty years ago, Maggie. I must be losing my grip."

"Mornin' luv" Maggie greeted Liam as he buckled his armor and ran his fingers through his hair. "Sturm's back with Jericho here." she said, indicating her old friend. "Jericho, meet Liam."

"Whoa, raider royalty in the house, eh? Well, that don't cut no ice here, eh Maggie?" Jericho said, though without apparent belligerence.

"That's right Jericho. No one gets to ride on his rep. But what if I could do something about your finances, or the lack thereof? Would that 'cut some ice' with you?" Liam eyed the old raider intently. Jericho broke eye contact and smiled thinly.

"What do you need?"

"A couple of things. First we need to meet with the people who make Megaton run. From what I've heard, that means the sheriff, Lucas Simms, Colin Moriarty, the saloon owner, Moira Brown who runs the supply store and I guess there's no getting around inviting the Lone Wanderer. He's probably going to oppose anything we suggest, but at least if we're in a group he'll have to justify his opposition. Feel free to add anyone I've missed."

Jericho considered this and said "Sturm told me what you're planning and I got to say I think it's the nuttiest thing I've ever heard, but if you want to run this pipeline to Megaton I think you need a few more people."

"I think you're right to invite the Loner. Cole's not in town right now, but that could change. He's in and out all the time. Then there's Mr. Burke. He's from Tenpenny Towers, but he also owns a house here. Rumor is he works for Alistair Tenpenny, so if you invite him to the sit-down you can pitch your plan to two settlements at the same time."

"Since this involves water", he continued, "it might be a good idea to have someone there from the water processing plant. Ol' Walter's been in charge of the plant for more than thirty years. Leo Stahl works there too, and if you invite Leo you should also invite his brother and sister, Andy and Jenny. The three of them own the Brass Lantern, the town diner."

"I swear I've never heard you put so many words in a row Jericho." Maggie marveled.

"If you're talking caps you tend to get my attention." he replied. "Now what's the other thing you mentioned?"

"We need Doc Church." Maggie said, taking over this part of the briefing.

"He's right where he's always been, Maggie. You know where his office is; you've been there before." Jericho said, unsure that his answer had been responsive.

"We don't want him for medical treatment, Jericho; we want him at Evergreen Mills." Maggie clarified.

"I don't think he'll go for it." said Jericho. "He's already worked that side of the street and he's pretty well dug in here, now. I don't know how you could convince him to leave."

"_We're_ not going to convince him of anything," said Maggie, "Lucas Simms is."

"Why would Simms do that?" asked Jericho, genuinely puzzled.

"Because you are going to plant a bug in his ear, a bug about the good doctor's _past._"

Jericho paused as the nature of Maggie's plan became clear to him. "You were always a ruthless one, Maggie Gray. That's one of the things I've always liked best about you. I just hope that there are _lots_ of caps involved."

"More than you'll ever need." she said, smiling.

"Oh I don't know; I need quite a few." he joked as they headed out the door for Megaton.

…………………**.**

The sun hadn't yet appeared over the Potomac River when Daniel and Vikia crossed the Citadel Bailey. In the pre-dawn light they walked down the small corridor into the lee of the massive steel gate that controlled the entrance to the Brotherhood's headquarters. As the gate opened Daniel was greeted by the familiar odors of the Capital Wasteland; odors that mysteriously never seemed to penetrate to the courtyard of the enormous, five-sided structure. He turned north and Vikia fell into step wordlessly.

They walked steadily for some time, first crossing under the Arlington Memorial Bridge where not so long ago he had followed Liberty Prime into the teeth of the Enclave defense of the Jefferson Memorial. Moving north along the Potomac Daniel signaled Vikia to move off the road as they passed Wilhelm's Wharf, a meeting place for some of the local bandits. The dining area was outside, all year round; today it seemed empty. Then he saw the woman he had hoped to see. Grandma Sparkle was sweeping up, presumably after breakfast. He stood and walked toward the little kitchen waving a hello to the retired trader-turned-restaurateur.

"Hello there, Vault Boy" – she never remembered names – "how nice to see you again."

"Hello yourself, Grandma Sparkle; how's the mirelurk stew today?" he asked her.

"Fresh, just like it always is. My boys are out hunting 'lurks right now." she informed him.

Daniel and Vikia sat, ate and spoke for the first time since leaving the Citadel.

"How far is it to Megaton?" Vikia asked.

"Just a few more miles. We should be there by noon." Daniel answered, and with that terse answer he finished his meal.

The silence was beginning to become uncomfortable

…………………**.**

From the Wharf the terrain rose slowly toward another broken link in the ubiquitous highway system that once criss-crossed the continent. The temperature rose sharply as the pair ascended the broken landscape. Boulders and fences prevented a direct-line approach to the plateau upon which sat Megaton and the old town of Springvale. By the time they reached the top of the rise Daniel was panting under the weight of his pack and weapons. Daniel was as fit as almost any other human roaming the Wasteland; even under a heavy pack he could walk all day and then get up the next morning and do the same. But he _was_ human, and despite his reluctance to show weakness he finally said "Let's take a break."

Vikia replied airily "If you must."

Annoyed, Daniel shot back "Oh that's right Vikia, you could probably walk straight to Megaton non-stop."

Turning to face Daniel she retorted "Is that what your problem is with me? That I'm an android? I didn't have you pegged as a bigot. Or is it because I wouldn't sleep with you at the Pitt?"

"I don't take rejection badly; I just take exception to being referred to as a 'Beast of Burden.'" Daniel said.

"Yes, I can see how that would rankle." Vikia said. "Please accept my apology and consider the circumstances; I was quite literally not myself at the time."

"Apology accepted" Daniel said, feeling magnanimous and vaguely relieved, "and as for being an android, would it surprise you to learn that you are not the first android whom I've met?"

This seemingly offhand remark fell on Vikia like a thunderbolt. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and mouth round "You know of another android? Why didn't you tell me? Who is she? Or is it he? Tell me everything!"

Daniel smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "Back at the Citadel you said yourself that nothing is free. Just how badly do you want to know about this android?"

"What? Do you seriously mean to suggest that I should _pay_ you for information …Wait, just what _are _you suggesting …?"

"Hold on." Daniel said, laughing now. "I was just kidding. You should see the expression on your face." Laughing harder while trying to contain himself and just barely succeeding, he went on "The truth is that I can't tell you very much about him – yes, he's male – because I promised that I would keep his identity in confidence."

"I've been struggling to decide just how much I can tell you." Daniel continued. "Under the circumstances I'm pretty sure that he wouldn't object to me telling you of his existence, but I don't know how much more I can reveal without breaching my promise. I can promise you one thing; I will see this man … this _android_ as soon as circumstances permit and with your consent I'll tell him that he is not alone in the Capital Wasteland. I believe he will be very anxious to meet you."

"Alright." Vikia replied, after considering Daniel's words. "I can see your dilemma here and I suppose I'd want you to keep my confidence if the positions were reversed. I'll hold you to your promise, though, and if there is anything else you can tell me at this point I would be very grateful."

Daniel considered what he knew of Harkness, now the security chief of Rivet City and formerly the Hunter for the Institute's Synth Retention Bureau. Vikia's greatest fear was that the Institute someday would find her and return her to the Commonwealth. Without Harkness, their ability to locate android _runners_ was severely compromised if not utterly stymied. He looked at Vikia and held her gaze.

"You don't have to worry about the Institute's Hunter any longer."

"The Hunter? Do you mean the android is the Hunter? Or did he kill the Hunter? I'm still not sure …."

"That's all I can say at the moment." Daniel interrupted gently. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to put your mind at ease. I promise to tell you the rest as soon as I can."

Vikia broke the eye contact, looking north, symbolically toward the Commonwealth. "Thanks Cole. You're OK, I don't care what they say about you."

Daniel looked back at her in surprise, ready to question her last statement, but found her chuckling to herself. "Just kidding. Android humor."

They resumed their walk to Megaton in a companionable silence.

…………………**.**

By midday Daniel and Vikia were within sight of the distinctive walled crater of Megaton. Daniel glanced to his side and realized that you didn't see too many redheads in the Capital Wasteland. He wondered why her designers – or was _creators _the more accurate term – had given her this bright plume. In fact, why had they selected _all_ of the various physical attributes they had bestowed on their creation – their _child_ in a sense?

He looked at his 'new girlfriend' more closely now. She was perhaps 5'4" and slim. Of course _everyone_ in the Capital Wasteland was slim. Coming perilously close to starvation on a regular basis provided a nearly-perfect negative correlation with obesity. She had a triangular face with a pixie-like chin, a long, graceful neck and wide, Spring-green eyes. Her skin was pale – too pale for the average Wastelander, but someone who could control her own melanin level would neither tan nor burn so that much was due to her unconventional origins. Her complexion was … perfect, much clearer than anyone raised in a radioactive and essentially unsanitary culture had a right to exhibit. This too was striking. Even in a Darwinian era in which the physically gifted were much more likely to survive, Vikia's body was a close to perfection as was possible to imagine. The Institute had given her strength in a perfectly-proportioned and aesthetically pleasing form. Indeed, if you have the capacity to place strength, intelligence and character in any kind of body you choose, why not choose the most perfect form you can create.

The overall effect was, well, attractive; no, that was too bland by half. The woman was really quite beautiful, although one had to look beyond each individual feature to realize it. Still, there was something in the way the pieces fit together …. Damn, he thought, I should just ask her.

"Vikia" he said, "I don't mean to pry, but I'm curious about the way you were …created. Let me know if this seems rude or if it make you uncomfortable; it's just that I wonder about some of your … um, characteristics."

"I don't mind, Daniel, but can you be a bit more specific?"

"Well, for example, your hair." he said. "It's not only red, but quite nearly pink. I would think that in creating an android your creators would try for a look that, well, blended into your surroundings better."

"You're wondering why I stick out like a super mutant in an evening gown?" she asked, grinning.

"I wouldn't have put it exactly like that, but …"

"I think you'll find that it's my hair that throws the picture out of focus, skewing the gestalt as it were." she said. "When I was _born_, my hair was, at least in my own opinion, a rather drab brown. When you're in a room full of androids who are _exactly_ the same, you have to seek your individuality wherever you can find it."

"Conveniently, we androids have a degree of control over the chemical processes in our bodies. Once I decided what color I wanted my hair to be, it was simply a matter of increasing the production of pheomelanin in my body while decreasing the levels of eumelanin at the same time."

"How do you do that?" Daniel asked, intrigued.

"To decrease levels, I simply block receptors and the surplus comes out as waste; to increase I ingest foods that are rich in the chemical I need and avoid consuming anything that would conflict with its uptake."

"We're so different from one another, but you seem utterly human to me." Daniel said. They were nearly at the gates of Megaton, now.

"I'm designed to seem human, even to myself, Daniel. Any illusion is more powerful if the person responsible for creating it believes her own publicity." Vikia paused for a moment. "So, now that you know I'm not human, are you still interested in sleeping with me?"

"Are you kidding?" Daniel laughed. "More than ever. You should never miss a chance for a new experience."

Vikia laughed too, but before she could ask him if he was serious, her eyes shifted to something behind Daniel. She paled, stiffened and opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

"Hello Vikia; nice to see you made it to safety." Maggie Gray had more experience covering her reactions than Vikia, so her voice remained steady as she greeted the woman who had come to Evergreen Mills from the Pitt.

Vikia looked blankly at Maggie for a moment; Daniel thought that she seemed to be resetting some subroutine in her programming. He silently chided himself for thinking of his companion as a collection of hardware and software. This was obviously a chance meeting with the raider leader of Evergreen Mills – quite fortuitous actually – and Vikia was no more surprised than any _human_ would be in her position.

Then Vikia's face suddenly and quite unnervingly took on an expression of amusemnt. "Hello Miss Gray. I did indeed escape the ambush, and in the process I recovered my long-lost memories. I'm afraid I've found other employment in the interim."

"We all do what we must to survive, dear, and I wish you joy of your new _employment_." "This last word was accompanied by a frank gaze in Daniel's direction.

Following Maggie's eyes, Vikia turned toward Daniel while speaking to her former leader. "Let me introduce Daniel Cole; you may know him better as …"

"The Lone Wanderer." Liam entered the conversation, completing Vikia's reference to Daniel's _nom de guerre_. He looked the younger man in the eye and reached out his hand politely in the common greeting of all civilized Wastelanders. Whether his hand was taken would show him whether he would be accepted, however tenuously, as being civilized. If the gesture was ignored, he would know from the outset that he would have an enemy in this formidable and influential figure. "Nice to meet you, Daniel." he said.

Daniel hesitated for a moment, then reached out and shook Liam's hand. Not to be put in a corner, however, he replied "Welcome to Megaton, _Raider_."

Liam had to admire Daniel's adroit handling of the introduction. No direct insult was offered; the proffered hand was taken, the gesture made. At the same time, however, he had made it clear that he knew exactly with whom he was dealing and that any business would be conducted at extreme arms-length.

For his part, Daniel was impressed, however reluctantly, by the self-possession of the couple in front of him. Jericho and the other man were stereotypical raiders, but these two might as well have been visiting heads of state given their cool demeanor. _What do they want here?_ a voice in his head demanded.

"You must be Margaret Gray." he said to Maggie, taking her outstretched hand in turn. Turning back to Liam he said "Liam Conal, I presume." Daniel was gratified to see Liam's eyebrows rise slightly, as much of a reaction as could be expected. He studied the man. Daniel didn't have to look up to many people, but Conal was a tall man, perhaps six foot three or four. Slim through the waist and torso, his shoulders still filled the armor he wore, evidence of years of hard work. Apparently this was not a man used to delegating even his manual tasks to others.

His nose was aquiline; though it had clearly been broken at some point. Under his nose sat a thin moustache, much like his own. His mouth was full and he smiled at Daniel's scrutiny, revealing strong, white teeth – some missing, whether from accidents, ill health or fighting. He was not young but he exuded a vitality that would preclude taking him lightly in combat. His face showed laugh lines and the beginnings of crow's feet framing his dark, brown eyes.

Perhaps the most dangerous thing about this man, however, was his voice. Low and melodic, it was a voice used to persuasion as much as for command. _What do they want here?_

Daniel realized, then, that either he could wait for the raiders to make their intentions known, or he could simply …ask.

"What brings you to Megaton?" he queried.

Liam and Maggie exchanged a look and by the silent consent common to many long-term couples decided that Liam would respond. "We're here to bring water – to Megaton and to any other settlement that wants it."

"At the risk of appearing to have a firm grasp of the obvious, the Brotherhood of Steel is already providing pure water for every significant settlement in the Capital Wasteland." Daniel replied. "Maybe you didn't get the memo?"

_Smug bastard, _Liam thought. Well, the hook is baited; let's see if I can reel him in. "Yes, the Brotherhood gets high grades for their altruism, but from a practical viewpoint they've left a lot to be desired."

"Such as?" Daniel asked.

"Volume. The last time they brought water to Megaton they almost got into a pitched battle with the settlers here." Liam said, demonstrating that Daniel wasn't the only party to this discussion with access to Wasteland gossip. "The way I heard it, you had to mediate the situation yourself, and in the end Big Town lost most of their water supply for this trip. I'm sure that didn't go over well with your old friends there. Has Three Dog heard about this one?"

Now it was Daniel struggling to keep his temper in check. He took a breath and opened his mouth to reply but Maggie beat him to the draw.

"Boys, if you would both put your testosterone on the shelf for a minute, I'll try to explain what we are offering." she said.

"I'm listening Miss Gray," Daniel finally said, "but patience is not my strong suit."

"I can tell you in one word, Mr. Cole." she replied. "Pipeline."

"?" Daniel looked at her quizzically, wordlessly and uneasily.

"She's talking about a water pipeline – one that is capable of bringing more than 500 gallons of water to Megaton _each minute._ That's like having almost 300 Brahmin pull into the caravan area every hour, 24 hours per day, every day of the year." Liam was unable to stop himself from explaining his plan himself. "You can drink your fill, build a reservoir for emergencies, take a shower …"

"Fat chance." Jericho interrupted, making his first contribution to the discussion. "Well it's bad for you; everyone knows that." he said, suddenly aware of the scrutiny of the rest of the group which erupted in mirth at the old raider's assertion.

"The larger point is," Liam went on, "that with enough water you can begin to grow your own food."

"Grow it where?" Daniel asked, intrigued now, in spite of the speaker. "The soil itself is contaminated."

"Radiation can be cleansed from the soil, Daniel." Liam explained. "What's more, some areas in the Capital Wasteland were hit harder than others in the Great War. Because there's been very little rain since then, the seepage of radio nucleotides has been somewhat limited. We can dig into the soil, run radiation tests and then plant crops in the least contaminated areas."

Despite his misgivings Daniel was now listening intently to Liam, trying to decide whether he was some kind of visionary of simply a madman. Because of his vault education, Daniel was one of perhaps 20 people in the Capital Wasteland able to follow Liam's exposition. If this was really possible ….

Liam continued with his theme. "There are several bacteria that will actually "inhale" toxic metals and "exhale" them in a non-toxic form.

Daniel broke in to say "The bacteria's cleaning power must come from their proteins' ability to bond with metal oxides, which the bacteria must use the same way we use oxygen - to breathe."

"That's exactly right." said Liam. Then he stopped and stared at the Lone Wanderer. His reputation was that of a cowboy, or some kind of knight. He hadn't expected the young man to follow his explanation, much less draw this kind of conclusion from it. He finished his thought. "The bacterium _Shewanella oneidensis, _for example, breaks down metal to chemically extract oxygen. It can reduce chromium, technetium and uranium to form insoluble compounds. The last two are byproducts of plutonium. Dump this into your soil and let it sit for a couple of months. Pour water onto the soil and let it leach out the waste products. The next Spring you can plant a garden."

"So what do you need from the town of Megaton to get started on this project?" asked Daniel, cutting to the chase.

"We need contract to purchase the water at a fair price and some startup money. We're almost ready to start pouring steel right now, but the expense of running a pipeline to Megaton will be considerable." Liam said. "We want to speak with the citizens of Megaton in order to explain our plan, its benefits and the cost of implementation. All we're asking for is a fair hearing"

"I won't stand in your way, Liam" said Daniel, "but I'm still skeptical and I'll remain that way until I see significant progress. Most people will think it's a crazy idea. And because of your, um, background, a lot of people will expect to see twenty miles of pipe with mutilated corpses every fifty feet."

"I know the people here will be reluctant to deal with any Raiders, even the Khans." Liam said. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. As for it being a crazy idea – well of course it is. But you see Daniel, even a blind dog runs up on a bone once in a while."

…………………**.**

Note: In the game, Vikia is a raider at the Pitt. The Fallout Wiki identifies her as a possible android in the following paragraph:

"She may possibly be an android. Vikia is likely named after the robot project created by Carnegie Mellon University. Also upon her death, you can find a fission battery, a sensor module, and two scrap metals in her inventory, like you would with normal robots in the wasteland. This is further evidenced by the fact that she replies to a Male PC's Lady Killer conversation attempt, with having an "immunity" to the PC's seductive charms. "

Source: The Fallout 3 Wiki – Vikia's Page: .com/wiki/Vikia

Her "immunity" to the Lady Killer perk was the reason for the "I'm still not interested." line in the previous chapter.

…………………


	8. Chapter 8

"Persuasion is often more effectual than force." - Aesop

"Character may be called the most effective means of persuasion." - Aristotle

………………**..**

Chapter Eight: _Prelude in Megaton _

"… even a blind dog runs up on a bone once in a while." With these parting words to the Lone Wanderer, the raider party turned to enter the gates of Megaton.

"_Welcome … to … Megaton. Friendliest town … a … round. Threat level … minimal. Open gates_." Liam narrowed his eyes and stared at the Protectron who apparently controlled access to the town.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or offended." he said as the gates opened. They crossed the threshold and gazed into the crater that was the heart of the oddly-constructed settlement. Jericho took the lead and began descending a stairway toward a huge bomb surrounded by a pool at the bottom of the depression. Before the others could follow, however, they were interrupted by a large man in a sheriff's duster and hat.

"Well now I've seen everything; not one but three people willing to be seen with you, Jericho. Who're your new friends?" the man asked.

"This is Liam, Maggie and Sturm, sheriff." Jericho replied. Then turning to the trio accompanying him, "This is our town Sheriff, Lucas Simms. He also doubles as mayor when we need one."

"I'll give you the same speech I give every new face I see coming into town: 'Don't cause any trouble and we'll get along just fine.'" Simms said. He looked hard at Sturm, or more specifically his armor, but said nothing. Not everyone wearing raider armor was a card-carrying, bloodthirsty psychopath. Better to wait and see.

"We're business people, Sheriff. We have a proposition that will be of interest to the entire town. I hope you will be able to find time to listen to our proposal once we arrange a meeting with some of your citizens." Liam said.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world." replied the Sheriff in his deep, resonant baritone. As he was walking away he turned back and added "I won't be hard to find; I'm always around."

……………**.**

Jericho continued on his way down the slope as Simms trudged up toward the gates. As he reached the top of the hill he encountered Daniel Cole entering the town on the heels of Jericho's party.

"Welcome back, Daniel. Did you just run into Jericho's _friends_ on your way into town?" he asked.

"Yes, did you have a chance to speak with them?" the Lone Wanderer asked his friend.

"Briefly. I gave them the usual lecture, but I'm not entirely comfortable with them." Lucas turned and looked at the retreating figures who had reached the bottom of the crater and begun to climb the ramps on the other side.

"I think your instincts are correct, Lucas." Daniel said. "These are not your everyday Wastelanders. They're raiders; and not your everyday raiders, either."

Daniel recounted his conversation with Liam and Maggie and watched the big man grow more concerned. Simms was a bearded, dark-complected African-American man, but Daniel watched him turn an angry shade of red as he heard more of the raiders' plans.

"What a load of … nonsense." the Sheriff said, managing to bite back a more colorful invective after noticing Vikia standing a few paces away from Daniel. "Sorry miss; I didn't notice you standing there. Guess I got caught up in Daniel's information."

"Lucas, this is Vikia … Steel." Daniel managed. He realized that he didn't know if Vikia even _had_ a last name and so had invented one on the spot – a rather accurate Freudian slip insofar as she was now effectively a ward of the Brotherhood.

"It's nice to meet you, Vikia." Simms said before returning his attention to the Wanderer. "Damn. I should just run them out of town now, before they can cause any trouble."

"I understand your feelings on this," Daniel said, "but Lucas, what if they're serious? Can you imagine the Capital Wasteland tied together by a network of pipelines? We'd probably save more lives than are lost in every raider attack each year."

"Do you really think this bunch of yahoos has the _means_, much less the _intention_ of bringing all this clean water to the rest of the Capital Wasteland? Why would they do it? What's in it for them?" Simms asked.

"Caps. Lots and lots of caps." Daniel replied. "These people aren't philanthropists, that's for sure. I just hope that they are what they claim to be – businessmen. I know businessmen. I can deal with businessmen. They can be relied upon to do whatever will benefit them. It's the psychopaths that I'm worried about. If this is some kind of plan to capture Megaton ..." he trailed off.

"That's what I'm saying." said the sheriff. Sure it would be great to have an almost endless supply of water, but is it worth the risk?"

"I think they know that we won't be welcoming them with open arms, Lucas." Cole said. "Conal didn't blink when I told him that I'd want to see significant progress before putting my skepticism aside. I think they must have sufficient resources to at least _begin_ the project. I'd like to hear the specifics of what they have in mind."

"It looks like they're walking into Moriarty's." Simms said, peering across the bowl to the far rim of the crater. It figures that they'd want to talk to Colin; if anyone can bankroll this kind of operation it's him."

"I don't usually drink during the day," said Cole "and I know you don't either, but what do you say we make an exception today."

"Let's go." agreed Simms.

……………**.**

Jericho led the group up the ramp to the door of the saloon. "I know it looks like a dump, but this guy has more caps than anyone in the Capital Wasteland, except maybe that Tenpenny guy."

"It's always nice to meet someone with caps, even if he isn't at the other end of my rifle."Liam said and walked through the door.

Three steps into the saloon Liam stopped and let his eyes adjust to the dim, smoky ambiance. Behind the bar stood, of all things, a ghoul. He was wiping down the counter and avoided making eye contact. On a bar stool to his right sat a striking working girl eyeing him suggestively. They nodded to one another before Liam continued his survey of the room.

As they moved to find a table a man sporting long salt-and-pepper hair and a matching beard approached them. He wore a leather vest over a tee-shirt but his eyes were what drew attention; they were a deep, piercing blue that might have come from the same bloodline as Maggie's.

"Good day to you gentlemen, and to you Miss." he said, his gaze resting briefly on each of them and lingering a moment too long on Maggie before turning to Liam. "Normally I'd say 'any friend of Jericho's is a friend of mine.' but this _is_ Jericho we're talking about."

"Fuck you too, Colin." Jericho said, responding in his usual ill-humored fashion.

"Ah, ever the diplomat." Moriarty commented, his eyes bright with amusement. "Well, imbibe until ye forget yer troubles I always say. Gob here will get whatever you want. So, unless you have any more _special_ needs …." Moriarty dangled the bait and Liam took the opportunity.

"Actually Colin, we're here to offer you a business opportunity. This is Margaret Gray," he said inclining his head toward Maggie, "the big guy is Sturm and I'm Liam Conal."

"Conal?" Moriarty asked, his interest piqued at last. "A fellow Irishman. Please, sit down and let's have a drink." They sat and Moriarty gestured to Gob who brought five bottles of beer to the table. Once they had all quenched their thirst with at least a swallow the flamboyant bar owner asked, "Tell me Liam, from what county would your ancestors come?

"My kin all hail from Esmeralda County, Colin." Liam replied.

"Hmm, Cork, Galway and Kerry I've heard of, Liam, but where now is Esmeralda?" Colin asked.

"It's halfway between Reno and Las Vegas in what used to be Nevada." Liam said. Then noticing Moriarty's puzzled look he added "In the New California Republic."

"The NCR? You _are_ a long way from home." Then, leaning forward and changing tacks he said "So what is this _opportunity_ you mentioned?"

Liam leaned in toward the table, mirroring Colin's action and spoke conspiratorially. "We've opened the plant at Evergreen Mills. Steel is being poured as we sit here. It's being pressed into sheets and the sheets are being rolled into pipes."

Moriarty leaned back as Liam spoke, his eyes growing wider. He said "Are you serious? The Mills is full of raiders." Then he looked at Sturm and his eyes evinced understanding. "Raiders? You're making steel with a workforce of raiders?"

"Even raiders work if the caps are right." Maggie said, dividing Colin's attention. "We even have a few wastelanders working at the mill."

"Slaves?" asked Moriarty. "That's a deal breaker, lass. I'd lose my more, um, _legitimate_ businesses."

"No slaves, Colin." Maggie replied. "These are people who prefer to live anywhere they are safe; even with raiders. Then again, we aren't your run-of-the-mill raiders."

"What do you mean by that?" the bar owner asked.

"We'll explain when we meet with the rest of the citizens. For now the important thing is that we're paying our people well, but we can't continue to pay them forever. That's where you come in." she said.

"Don't go getting ahead of yourself, lass." Colin said. "What will you be doing with all these pipes of yours?"

"We're going to carry them to the RobCo facility and then to the old Nuka Cola plant which we're using as a staging area." she said. "From the plant we plan to run a pipeline north to Megaton and east to the Potomac and into the tidal basin. From the Nuka plant we can run a pipeline north to Megaton and from RobCo it's just a short hop to Tenpenny Tower."

Liam added "On the route between the Mills and the Potomac there are several plants that would be very useful in rebuilding the industry of this area. The RobCo facility has a lot of open, paved space that we can use for storing the sheets. The Red Racer factory is the most intact factory in the Wasteland; it still has a functional assembly line, not to mention the milling machines, presses and dies we need to make precision equipment."

Moriarty paused for a moment, nearly overwhelmed by the weight of the information. Then he smiled and spoke and spoke strangely, "_Ní breac é go mbíonn sé ar an bport_, Liam."

It was now Liam's turn to hesitate, but after a moment he laughed and said "On the bank, Colin? We've only just now put our line in the water."

"Ah, so you _are_ a proper Irishman after all." Moriarty said.

"What was _that_? Maggie asked. "I thought the Irish spoke English."

"We do now, "said Colin, "but that was Gaelic, our ancestral language."

"That was also a test." said Colin. "He said 'It isn't a trout until it's on the bank.'"

"You've piqued my curiosity boys, Miss Gray." Colin said, nodding to the group. "Let's have your meeting right here. Who else are you planning to invite?"

"We need the Sheriff, the Lone Wanderer, the proprietor of Craterside Supply – Moira Brown, Alistair Tenpenny's man – Mr. Burke and the staff of the water processing plant Old Walter and Leo Stahl along with Stahl's brother and sister." said Maggie. She could tell by his expression that this wouldn't be Moriarty's short list of potential business partners.

"Be clever of this Burke, lad." said Moriarty. "There's something about him that spooks me and I'm not craven. He does have Tenpenny's ear, though, that's a fact. I can do without the Stahls but you might expect as much seeing as they're my competition. Moira's a good lass, sharp as a tack but she's a loon."

"A loon?" asked Liam, seeking clarification.

"She says the first thing that pops into her head, ya see." said Moriarty. "If you start talking about laying the pipes she might ask you to keep notes on the number of Radscorpions you kill."

"Ah, a loon. I get it." said Liam. "What about Walter?"

"Walter's been running the water processing plant since 2242, or so they say." said Colin. "I don't think there's anything he doesn't know about making water safe to drink. Don't care for the stuff myself."

"OK, let's get these folks up here, then." Liam said.

"I'll send Gob to fetch 'em. Gob!" Colin said, getting the ghoul's attention. Please go and ask Moira Brown, Mr. Burke, all the Stahls, Walter, Sheriff Simms and Daniel Cole for the pleasure of their company at their earliest convenience."

"Sure Colin." said the ghoul, obviously curious but not willing to ask why. "Anything that gets me out of here for a while works for me." he commented _sotto voce_ to the red-headed hooker as he walked out the door.

……………**.**

With Gob off on an errand Moriarty waved his hand in a circle to request another round of drinks. He said "Nova, oblige us with some fresh drinks if you would?"

As Nova walked behind to bar a tall young man in a grey duster got up from the next table and turned to face Moriarty and his guests. "You're raiders." he said.

"Yes, I'm an agent of evil," Liam deadpanned, "but my duties are largely ceremonial."

"There's a bounty on your fingers." the man said, confirming his identity.

"Are they training all the Regulators to be such keen observers now?" Liam asked dryly, playing for time. The last thing he needed right now was a gunfight.

"What I _observe_ is that you've walked into the wrong place at the wrong time, raider." the regulator said as his hands moved to part his duster.

"Now wait one moment …" Moriarty said as he pushed his chair back from the table and out of what he hoped would be the trajectory of any bullets that might soon be flying. No one paid attention to him.

"You planning to collect on that bounty?" Liam asked, standing and noticing a second regulator on the stairs to the right.

"A man's got to do something for a living these days." the regulator replied.

"Dyin' ain't much of a living, boy." Liam said flatly, finally committed to fighting.

The two men faced each other, the air taut and foreboding as light suddenly filled the room distracting both of them.

"OK, hold it right there. This is _my_ town; _my_ people are in the line of fire, and nobody, _nobody_, starts shooting in here unless it's in self defense." Lucas Simms stood in the doorway with Daniel Cole at his shoulder. Simms' low, cool voice contrasted with his words which promised a violent end for whoever acted against them. The sound that his Chinese assault rifle made as he cocked it served to underline his statement.

"Now why doesn't everyone just have a seat while I find out what this is all about." he continued.

"You shouldn't interfere in regulator business, Sheriff." said the man. Simms noticed his youthful face as well as that of the second regulator who was still standing on the stairs waiting for events to play out.

"Son, I've _been_ a regulator since before you were born." At this bit of information both the duster-clad men turned toward the Sheriff. "Sonora Cruz doesn't forbid us from having good, honest work aside from collecting bounties." Simms went on. "In fact, she's right pleased to have one of her own in a position of authority in the largest settlement in these parts."

The sheriff had their attention now and he played his hole card. "I'll tell you what _wouldn't _please Miss Cruz, though; the news that some of her regulators went into town and recklessly shot up a saloon. If by any chance you injure or kill a civilian in the course of your duties you will find that your _own _fingers have suddenly become more valuable."

The two younger regulators exchanged a long look and turned toward the door of the saloon. Before leaving the first regulator turned to back to face Liam and said "See you in the Wasteland, raider."

Liam smiled and said "Son, count yourself lucky that when God made you a fool he gave you a fool's face."

The regulator looked puzzled, then he stiffened; finally he turned and walked out the door followed by his companion.

……………**.**

"It would seem that I'm in your debt, Sheriff." said Moriarty who pushed two empty tables adjacent to the one they were already using.

"The last thing I want is your gratitude, Colin." replied Simms. "If there's going to be a meeting, let's get on with it."

The Sheriff and the Lone Wanderer took seats at the table which was now long enough to accommodate the anticipated group. Moira's guard walked through the door and informed them that his employer was in the middle of a project and would be there as soon as she finished. "She also told me to say that if anyone has a working knowledge of capacitors she could use some assistance." he said, plainly unsure of the eccentric storeowner was up to now.

Both Liam and Daniel stood. They looked across the table at one another, surprise evident on both their faces. "You go." said Daniel. "I've already done a stint as a research assistant for Moira."

Liam headed for the door, puzzled at the amusement evident on the Lone Wanderer's face. He passed a non-descript man in a dirty pre-war business suit and hat who was entering the bar as he left. "Mr. Conal? I'm Mr. Burke, agent for Alistair Tenpenny of Tenpenny Tower. Moriarty's _ghoul_ told me that you had some business opportunity that you wished to present." He nearly spat the word 'ghoul' out, clearly offended that Gob had been sent to offer the invitation.

"If you will wait just a few minutes, Mr. Burke, the other citizens whom I've invited will be here shortly and we can begin." Liam said. "I assure you that it will be well worth your time – as well as Mr. Tenpenny's – to hear what I have to offer."

Mr. Burke looked around the room, his eyes flying to the table at the far end of the room with several empty chairs. He locked eyes with the Lone Wanderer for a moment, then pointedly went to the bar and ordered a drink from Nova.

The silent exchange wasn't lost on Liam, but he had no time for minor mysteries. He exited the saloon and realized that he had no idea where to find Craterside Supply. He glanced to his right and then to his left where he saw and enormous 'SUPPLY' sign mounted precariously on top of what appeared to be an engine from a pre-war airship. "That must be the place." he said to no one in particular and he strode down the ramp past the men's restroom and onto the deck that surrounded the trader's place of business.

Liam opened the door and walked in. A counter sat to the right of the entrance with a large open area in the rear of the first floor. A well-equipped workbench stood on the right wall while tools and equipment in various states of repair hung on the wall or sat on tables. A youngish woman bent over the workbench seemingly unaware that anyone had entered the store. Her auburn hair was tied back and tucked into a utilitarian, blue jumpsuit. Just as Liam was about to clear his throat to get her attention she spoke.

"Can hold this for a minute?" she said, holding out a sheathed, copper wire without looking behind her.

Liam touched the wire gingerly before grasping it in his left hand. He noticed a partially dismantled cordless electric drill on one end of the table. A large handle was attached to the drill's chuck and the battery pack was missing. A voltmeter was attached to the contraption and he could see two bare leads in the battery compartment. The twin to the wire he was holding lay on the bench. They ran to something in front of the woman.

"Is that a makeshift generator?" Liam asked.

Moira just nodded her head and bent over whatever it was she was working on.

"Well, a generator is just an electric motor operating in reverse;" he thought, "I wonder what she's powering with it?"

Liam moved to the left where he could peer over Moira's shoulder. Far from being offended she turned to him and asked "Could you turn the handle for a minute?"

From his vantage point Liam could see what she was tinkering with. It was a large, squat bottle covered in foil halfway up the side, both inside and out. He saw a clear liquid inside the bottle filled to the level of the foil. There was a spike driven through a cork stopper at the top of the bottle. The spike had an eye-hook at its end which was an inch or so below the surface of the water. Attached to the hook was a length of chain that rested in the water. The two wires were connected to the exterior foil and the top of the spike respectively.

"A capacitor!" Liam exclaimed. "You've made yourself a capacitor, and this … is this a Leyden Jar?"

"Well of course it is, what else would it be?" asked the strange woman. "Now please turn that crank."

Liam did as directed and Moira took the wire from Liam and attached it to one of the leads in the battery compartment.

"Would you hand me the other wire, please?" she asked.

Liam looked at the end of the wire lying on the bench and realized that he was still turning the handle.

"I don't think that's a good idea." he said. "That would make me the ground and shock me right out of my boots."

"Hmm, well then I guess you better not." Moira mused. Liam stopped turning the handle.

"OK, it should be safe now." he said, and attached the wire to the other terminal. He was rewarded with the sight of soft glow in the jar.

"Look at all those electrons moving about." Moira said excitedly. "Now what can I help you with? Armor? Ammunition? Or are you selling something? I'll buy whatever you're selling."

"Actually, I may be able to help you." Liam said. "My name is Liam Conal. My associated and I are planning to build a water pipeline from the Tidal Basin to Megaton. I'd like to invite you to come over to Moriarty's saloon where we're having a meeting to discuss it."

"Oh, that would be wonderful. I haven't had a shower since I left Canterbury Commons." Moira said. "I don't have time to go with you just now, though; I'm at a crucial stage of my experiment."

"What if I could provide you with electronics text books? I have holotapes of the work of Michael Faraday and Nicola Tesla, complete with diagrams" Liam offered. "Would that be worth something to you?"

"Oh, I'm always looking for pre-war books." Moira said. "I had a research assistant who downloaded an entire library for me, but most of what it contained was literature and history. What do you want for a copy of your books?"

"Just an hour or so of your time and … maybe that box of items up on the shelf there." Liam said.

"Those things? They're some kind of communication devices that a scaver brought in a few months ago." she said. "I've never been able to get them working. If you can use them they're yours. Now where's that holotape?"

Liam pulled out his tapes and began the download of information to the Craterside computer. While Moira's computer was copying the data he made a cursory inspection of the equipment in the old box. They were oddly shaped plastic boxes with dials and numbered keys and a long, flexible appendage at what appeared to be the tops of the devices. When the data had been transferred he picked up his box and he and Moira walked back to the saloon leaving the guard in charge of the store.

As they approached the saloon Liam noticed an older fellow closing the door behind him. "That's Walter." Moira informed him as they followed the man from the Water Processing plant into the bar. Moriarty waved Walter over to the table where he was sitting in an uncomfortable silence opposite the three Stahls. Walter took a seat while Liam went back to his own. Introductions were made which did nothing to ease the tension.

No one in town could be expected to sanguine about meeting with raiders. Most people had a preconceived notion of what to expect from raiders and for the most part that notion was accurate. If he was going to convince these people to support this pipeline Liam knew that he was going to have to do two things. First, he had to distinguish himself and his group from _most_ raiders. Second, he had to offer them something that was too good to pass up.

The second part was easy; by now everyone in the Capital Wasteland knew about Project Purity. The level of frustration was rising exponentially as each successive delivery of water proved to be far too little to be of any real use to the growing population of the region. It was the first part that was the real trick. Even the Enclave would have a more receptive audience than he would as an avowed raider. His only recourse was to conduct himself in a cool, professional manner and hope that he could convince these people that he could actually accomplish what he was promising.

There were a couple of things in his favor in this regard. Oddly, the first of these had to do with the Lone Wanderer. The kid had a vault education that included at least some rudimentary training in engineering, so he knew that Liam wasn't full of shit when he claimed that a pipeline was possible. Moira Brown could also verify that the assumptions on which the project is based are sound.

The second thing was that peoples' expectations about raiders are so low that if he and his party simply refrained from flaying any Megaton citizens alive and hanging their still-living bodies from the cross-beams of the gates, they might be seen as exceptions to the general rule that the only good raider was a dead raider. If they could distinguish themselves as Khans and therefore distinct from the raiders of the Capital Wasteland they might be able to convince these people to suspend their judgment, at least until they saw some tangible progress.

Liam cleared his throat and glanced around the table one last time and began.

"I'm not here to make any friends and I'm not here to promise you anything that you can't see for yourself. I'm here because the Capital Wasteland is at a crossroads and the direction we take here will determine whether we finally move forward toward rebuilding our society or simply begin a new round of competition for ever-decreasing resources."

"The population of the Wasteland is increasing at the same time that caches of food are becoming scarcer. People have been forced to eat mole rats, mutated ants and even other people – we've all heard the stories of cannibalism, not only by the super mutants but by humans. We must begin to produce our own food, the way we did before the Great War. If we fail to do this then it is only a matter of time before the existing supplies are exhausted. There are animals here that we can eat, but they are dangerous to hunt and they only supply protein. Almost all of our carbohydrates and fats come from preserved foods that were packaged two hundred years ago."

The Sheriff was clearly becoming impatient with the tone of Liam's presentation. He broke in to say "We all know the score, Mr. Conal. What do you plan to do about it? And why should we trust _raiders_ to solve any of our problems?"

"Thank you Sheriff." Liam thought, "That's right on cue."

"With respect to your second question, Sheriff, we aren't what you commonly call _raiders_ in the Capital Wasteland. We don't rape, murder and mutilate our victims. We _do_ have a history of taking what we need, but _only_ what we need. Our history goes back to Vault 15 in what is now the New California Republic. We're the Khans and we have a tradition that goes back as far as any other group on this continent. "

"As for your first question, our plan is to supply enough pure water to every major settlement in the Capital Wasteland to allow for the reintroduction of agriculture." Liam continued. "We are currently producing steel at Evergreen Mills. This steel is being pressed into sheets which in turn are being fabricated into pipes. When we have enough pipe we will run a pipeline from the Tidal Basin to Megaton and possibly, to Tenpenny Tower."

This last bit of information was what finally brought Mr. Burke from the bar to a seat at the table. He said "You have my attention, Mr. Conal. This is quite an audacious undertaking. For your sake, I hope this isn't some kind of scam."

"No scam, Mr. Burke, and we're not asking anyone to take our claims on faith. We have sufficient funds to begin this venture on our own. Unfortunately we don't have the caps to finish it. Right now there are more than two hundred raiders working on this project – that's two hundred raiders that aren't out there setting ambushes or kidnapping Wastelanders for sale at Paradise Falls."

Liam paused to let this sink for a moment before he continued. "There's a lot more to this project than just fabricating pipe and laying it in a line between the Tidal Basin and Megaton."

Old Walter commented "Yer darn tootin' there is. You need pumps, compressors, and an injection station at the water source, not to mention a storage facility next to the water supply."

"That's right, Mr. …"

"Just call me Walter; everybody does."

"Well you know your water, Walter, so you know that we also need block valve stations to isolate any faults in the system, regulator stations to relieve pressure on the downhill side of any slopes, an outlet terminal here at Megaton and at Tenpenny Tower, and a system of leak detection." Liam added "We have prototypes for just about all of this equipment; we were able to scavenge some precision equipment from the Red Racer factory and we can build just about anything we can design. What we really need, though, is an accurate flow meter. What we have right now is adequate for constructing our pipeline but should we agree to charge for water on the basis of volume then we'll need an accurate meter to measure the flow."

"Hah! It just so happens that there are three impeller meters and a couple of positive displacement meters at the Water Processing Plant." Walter beamed. He was obviously enjoying this discussion of all things water. "The impellers are paired with totalizers that measure the flow of water before and after a measured period of time. They're pretty accurate and all I need at the plant. You may be more interested in the displacement meters, though; they're really just as simple but they use a spinning disk that causes a volume pin to move. This allows them to have a dial that anyone can read."

"That's just perfect, Walter." Liam said, and meaning it. "If we do sell our water to Megaton by the gallon then the volume can be determined by your own meters so there's no question of fraud."

"I'm more interested in how you plan to get the pipes from Evergreen Mills to Megaton and Tenpenny Tower." said Andy Stahl. He was the young man who ran the Brass Lantern. Despite being the youngest of the three siblings, it was him to whom the other two looked for direction. "I once located a piano near DuPont Circle in D.C., but I've never been able to get a trader to transport it back to Megaton for me. Too heavy, they always say."

"A piano?" said Moriarty archly. "I thought _I_ ran the only whore house in Megaton."

Liam ignored his host and explained "We're building carts that are pulled by Brahmin and that can carry several tons. We have other types of carts on the drawing board but these are the ones that will carry the pipes to their destinations. A steel pipe that is 15 inches in diameter weighs about 10 pounds per linear foot."

"That's unbelievable." said Moira. "I've never known a trader to carry more than a few hundred pounds of goods in any caravan. The Brahmin won't take the weight directly on their backs and the more Brahmin you have the more you need to feed them."

"Well, first we had to develop an efficient collar for the animals. A good collar can take more than half the weight off a Brahmin's neck and place it on the shoulders." Liam said as he gestured absently at his own corresponding body parts.. "We also needed to turn out some leaf springs to absorb the shock of the ground over which the carts will have to travel." he said. "Then we needed to add a 'fifth wheel' on the undercarriage for steering and stability and _bang_, we're up to the 18th century."

"We have a crew defoliating a path from Evergreen Mills to the RobCo facility." Liam said, further outlining his plan. "Once they have a clear path over fairly level ground they will start to dig a trench about a foot and a half deep to use as a road bed. As the bed is laid down we will have trap rock dumped into the path and then we'll pack it down. Once we have a road bed we can put any surface we want on top – stone, bricks, asphalt if we can find a way to get it hot enough or concrete if we can find a way to mix it and keep it usable at the point where it needs to be poured."

"Eventually we'll have a system of roads that we can use to move goods swiftly and, with any luck, safely across the Capital Wasteland." he concluded.

"What about security?" asked Jenny Stahl. "How will you prevent other groups from sabotaging the pipeline? For that matter how do you know that some group like the Brotherhood of Steel or the Regulators won't attack any group of raiders out of hand? And finally, what are you going to do about the Enclave and Talon Company? The Brotherhood is a long way from completely eliminating either group in the Capital Wasteland."

"I think you've hit on our biggest challenge." said Liam. "First let me deal with saboteurs, by which I think we're talking about other raiders. Super mutants normally don't destroy property. They can't eat an inanimate object. If they can't eat it, sell it or turn it into a new super mutant they normally leave it alone. Feral ghouls and animals won't bother with pipes any more than with any other objects lying around in the Wasteland. So we're left with the raiders."

"We don't have any kind of structured relationship with any of the other groups, nor do I think we're apt to get any special consideration from them. On the other hand, there aren't too many crews who want to get on our bad side. We outnumber any other group of raiders in the Capital Wasteland by an order of magnitude. I don't look for any alliances between any of these groups either, because they're, well, raiders. They don't play nicely with each other."

"Moving down your list, the only group that the Enclave has ever attacked in the Capital Wasteland is the Brotherhood of Steel. I know they will wantonly attack anyone who gets in the way of their plans for global domination, but at least for the first few months I don't think they will see this project as any kind of threat to them. In fact, they will probably see it as a value added bonus for the day that they are able to conquer the region."

Ticking off the next potential adversary on the list, Liam said "Talon Company works for caps. That's the obvious motive for any group of mercenaries. The only way they will risk an outright confrontation with us is if someone pays them to do so. Someone in the Capital Wasteland clearly had an agenda that support outright chaos. They pay the mercs to assassinate anyone who tries to bring justice to the region. I heard that you've had several confrontations with them, Daniel. Can you shed any light on who might be paying for these attacks?"

The Lone Wanderer leaned back in his chair and simply said "No." He took a drink from his canteen and looked at his hands as they rested on the table and added "I've always wondered who might want me dead badly enough to offer what must be a considerable bounty on my head. In the end, the list of my enemies is simply too long. It could be an enemy of the Brotherhood, such as the Enclave, but they have enough troops of their own who could do the job if such was their intention. I don't think the Talons would take a contract from raiders, and as far as that goes, I don't know of any raiders who wouldn't simply try to do the job themselves."

"There is a group that acts in opposition to the Regulators." said Liam. "I don't know much about their motives or their decision-making, but their name is Littlehorn & Associates. Their base is located at the scrapyard just southwest of the Regulator headquarters. This outfit pays for ears the same way in which the regulators pay for fingers, except that the ears must come from righteous people rather than evil ones."

"Thanks for the information." said Daniel. "I'll take it as a show of good faith. Now let's get to the heart of the matter; what about the Brotherhood of Steel?"

Liam considered his next words. This was _the_ essential relationship; only the Brotherhood was capable of blocking the pipeline. They control the Tidal Basin where the purified water originates and their stronghold is almost directly across the Potomac. Any pipeline running to the western bank of the river must run right under their noses.

"This isn't the first time that I've had dealings with the Brotherhood." Liam began.

"I've heard the story." said Daniel.

Liam was taken aback but covered his reaction and replied "I'm sure you've heard _a_ story; my version might differ."

"I think you'd be surprised." said Daniel. Liam didn't press him to elaborate.

"Any agreement we make here today will be contingent on gaining, if not the support of the Brotherhood, at least a pledge of non-interference." said Liam. "We can live with a 'wait and see' attitude from Owen Lyons because we have a lot of confidence in the plan we've propose and in our ability to bring it to fruition."

Liam went on, "What we would like to propose is that, assuming that the pipeline proves feasible, the cost of providing a minimum of five hundred gallons of water per minute should be calculated on the basis of population. For smaller settlements there will have to be some minimum charge, but for a town the size of Megaton a price of 20 caps per resident per month is what we think is reasonable. The population should be recalculated every three months and the town should designate someone to act as a Commissioner of Water."

No one spoke for a moment, while the group mulled over the numbers. Finally, Lucas Simms said "How are we supposed to collect the caps? Am I supposed to go to each resident with my hand out?"

"I assume that you'll institute some kind of water tax." Liam said. "You can set whatever rate you see fit – one, flat rate, separate rates for businesses and residences, whatever. You can run water lines to every structure, so if someone doesn't pay you can always turn off the water. If you want hardship exceptions, you can always pay the shortfall from the town's general fund."

"How far into town will you run your line?" asked Leo Stahl.

"Our responsibility will be to install a terminus at the Water Processing Plant." Liam replied.

"What kind of money do you need _before_ your pipeline reaches Megaton?" asked Moriarty. Every eye went to the bar owner and then to Liam.

"Yes, you mean how do we know this isn't some kind of scam?" said Liam. "Fair question." he added. "We have sufficient caps to build the pipeline across the river and for a couple of miles after that. If we can use the Taft Tunnels to go _under_ the river it will make our job much simpler and cheaper."

Liam paused to let the import of that statement sink in. The Taft Tunnels were controlled by the Brotherhood.

"We can fabricate the pipes as well as the pumps and other peripheral equipment and have them in place at the Tidal Basin within the next two months. Once we're across the river we can begin laying the pipeline north along its bank. There second pumping station will be on the western bank just south of the Citadel. The third station will be located near the old Super Duper Mart where the land rises west to a plateau making it necessary to install a rather large pump. Somewhere between the Citadel and Wilhelm's Wharf we expect to run out of caps."

"What we need from you is a firm commitment that if we can get the pipeline that far, you will advance us the caps necessary to complete the run into Megaton." Liam concluded. "Any advance will, of course, be repaid by forgiveness of the monthly charges spread over the first year of operation."

The room fell silent as each of the Megatoners considered the proposal. Liam said "Perhaps we should give you some time to consider our proposal." He stood and made ready to wait outside for a decision when a voice said "Wait a moment, please."

It was Mr. Burke. He said "In the event that you do not reach an agreement with these good people, I can commit Mr. Tenpenny to financing a similar pipeline that would run straight west from the river and terminate at Tenpenny Tower. I am fully authorized to make this offer on behalf of my employer."

Liam nodded to Mr. Burke but before he could move toward the door Colin Moriarty spoke. "I don't think that will be necessary. I do believe that we can reach an accommodation. What about a show of hands? All in support of this project in principle?"

Colin raised his hand immediately, as did Walter and Moira. The Stahls exchanged looks and raised their hands together once Andy gave his siblings a slight nod. Mr. Burke raised his hand, then lowered it with a sour look after the Sheriff said "You don't get a vote, Burke; you're here to represent Tenpenny Tower."

Lucas Simms and Daniel Cole saw the unanimity in the rest of the group and looked at one another apprehensively. Finally Daniel gave a shrug and the two of them raised their hands.

"We're going to need some kind of liaison during the pre-pipeline period." Daniel said. "We need periodic progress reports from your team and you're going to want to know how our own infrastructure is coming along not to mention our tax program."

"I'd be happy to have you accompany us back to the Mills, Daniel. I think you'll be impressed by our progress." said Liam.

"So long as you think my presence there wouldn't be disruptive, I'd be glad to go." said Daniel. "When will you leave?"

"We're planning to leave immediately." Liam said. "We'll be ready within the hour. I hope that leaves you time to pack. We have a few hours of daylight remaining and we still have a stop to make on way."

"Oh," asked Daniel, "Where are you planning to stop?"

"At the Citadel."

……………**.**

Liam, Maggie, Jericho and Sturm left Moriarty's saloon and turned right, negotiating the labyrinthine walkways that led out of town. They bid farewell to Jericho at his house and ascended the ramp to Daniel Cole's home. The Wanderer stood just outside his door looking out over the settlement. He turned as the small party approached and hefted a pack to his back. Liam glanced down to Daniel's feet where Dogmeat had issued a soft yelp as one of her newly-weaned puppies had nipped her teat still trying to nurse. He bent at the knees and crouched, stroking Dogmeat and eyeing her pups.

"Your dog …." Liam began, trailing off.

"What about my dog?" asked the Wanderer, a bit defensively.

After a moment Liam continued "I … we… had a dog, a lot like her." Liam had seen death and misery on a scale that few, even in this _wasteland_ could imagine, much less match. Still, with Dogmeat eyeing him with affection as he rubbed her belly moisture came to his eyes unbidden. "She was a good dog. I just miss her is all."

Daniel studied the crouching figure, trying to reconcile his impression of the man as a ruthless leader of killers with the image of him gently running his hand over his canine companion.

Sturm and Maggie exchanged glances and Maggie said "Angel; the dog's name was Angel."

Still confused and somewhat embarrassed, Daniel said "I don't know what to do with all these puppies. Most people find it hard enough to feed themselves out here. If you want, you can have one of her pups."

Daniel picked an affectionate female who was wrestling with one of her brothers. He looked at Maggie who smiled and nodded..

"What are you going to call her?" asked Daniel.

"Anything but Dogmeat." Liam said, smiling.

**Epilogue**

Doc Church nervously watched the group leaving the town gates. He hesitated just for a moment, then picked up his bag and ran after them.

"Wait just a moment." he called. The group stopped and turned around in time to see him approach. "I seem to have worn out my welcome in Megaton." he said. "Would you by any chance be willing to allow me to accompany you on your travels? I'm a medical man and I don't think I'm being immodest when I say that I could be of use to you."

"As it happens, doctor, we are in need of a physician at Evergreen Mills." said Liam.

The doctor's face fell at the mention of the raider stronghold. Finally he nodded and said "That would be fine. 'Any port in a storm' as they say. Are you heading there now?"

"We're heading for the Citadel," said Liam, "but Sturm here can escort you to the Mills if you don't want to test the hospitality of the Brotherhood."

"Fine, fine." said the doctor. "I just wish I knew how that bastard Simms got wind of my past associations." He turned west following Sturm and muttering obscenities while Liam, Maggie and Daniel headed south to an uncertain reception at the Citadel.

……………………………

**Note****: **There are quotes from a couple of films in this chapter. One is fairly obvious, the other is not. The first film starred Clint Eastwood; the second Peter O'Toole. Can anyone name the films and the context in which they were delivered?

**Next**: The Citadel, of course.


	9. Chapter 9

"He who does not trust will not be trusted." – _Lao Tzu_

"The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool." – _Stephen King_

………………**..**

Chapter Nine: _Revelations and Survival_

The small party watched Doc Church and his raider escort, Sturm heading east from the Megaton gates. Liam, Maggie and Daniel turned to the right and began a partial circumnavigation of the town's walls. The only egress from the town faced north and their destination was due south. After the meeting Liam had suggested that as long as they were headed for the Citadel, they might as well stop at the Red Racer Factory to take a quick look at the facilities. Consequently, they were heading south and then east to the Citadel rather than east to the river and then south.

Liam carried their new puppy in a satchel that he slung over his shoulder and which was open at his opposite hip. Maggie was trying to keep a straight face in light of Liam's reaction to Sturm who had commented "Nice bag." and been favored with a withering glare for his efforts. They named the puppy Daisy which was from an old comic that Daniel had found at Hubris Comics. Sturm had wanted an intimidating name like Titan or Spike. Maggie vetoed the idea because this was a female and because as a puppy she looked anything but ferocious. Liam didn't really care what they name her; he just called her his _baby girl_ and that's what the puppy responded to best.

As they marched in the shadow of the scrap metal bulwark surrounding Megaton, Maggie asked Daniel why Vikia hadn't come along with them.

"Vikia left just a few minutes before we did, Maggie. She went into DC to tell Sentinel Lyons that we would be travelling to the Citadel to present your plan to the Brotherhood." said Daniel. "Sarah Lyons is the Elder's daughter; she is also the highest ranking knight in the Capital Wasteland. I can assure you there is no nepotism involved."

"Wait a minute." said Maggie. "You sent your woman into the DC ruins? To the GNR building? Alone? On an _errand_? What am I missing here?"

"Vikia is far from helpless, Maggie. She has a lot of experience staying alive under harsh conditions." said Daniel, not meeting Maggie's gaze.

"Uh huh. Right. Daniel, she ran away from an Enclave ambush not two weeks ago. She suffered some traumatic memory recall. Damn it Daniel, I like that girl! You put her right in the middle of super mutant city!" Maggie shouted, clearly upset now.

Liam watched Daniel halt and turn to face Maggie and him. He didn't feel it was his place to criticize Daniel and Vikia's strategic decisions, but he wasn't about to tell Maggie to let it go when she was on a roll. To Liam's surprise, Daniel explained himself.

"OK." said Daniel. "In the interest of full disclosure, and because we're likely to be travelling together for a while, there's some things you ought to know about Vikia. Before she left we discussed what I should tell you and Liam. Vikia likes you too Maggie, and she respects you, so she told me to tell you everything. There's just one caveat – you must agree to keep her secret in confidence. I'm sure you'll understand once you hear what I have to say."

"Alright Daniel, I agree." said Maggie. Daniel nodded and looked to Liam who said "Yeah, me too. Maggie and I aren't gossips; Vikia's secret is safe with us."

"Good. Thank you." said Daniel. "Well then, the first thing is that Vikia has probably crossed the Potomac by now. It's likely that she's working her way toward GNR by crossing some of the debris barriers that would be a complete obstacle to you or me. She should be speaking with Sarah by the time we come in sight of the Wasteland Car Dealership and she'll rendezvous with us by the time we're ready to start out in the morning."

"Oh, she's an Enclave agent with access to a Vertibird?" said Liam, only half-jokingly.

"No, she's an android." said Daniel.

Sometimes when you hear something clearly, something you still can't believe, your body just – freezes – if only for a moment. You stop whatever it is you're doing and just process the information. Liam and Maggie froze; then they looked at Daniel. He didn't look as though he was joking, but still, wasn't he about to break into a grin and say 'gotcha'? No, apparently not.

"What do you mean?" said Liam at the same time that Maggie said "An Android?"

"I mean she wasn't _born_, she was _built_." said Daniel. "She is a collection of hardware and software made in the image of a human being. She comes from the Commonwealth, or more specifically from the Institute – a research facility within the Commonwealth. Their technology, at least in the area of robotics and artificial intelligence, makes ours look like we're in the Stone Age."

"Well, for all intents and purposes, we _are_ in the Stone Age." said Liam, hardly able to believe his ears. We don't use of carts or even the wheel, a have a feudal government we're at a hunter–gatherer level of subsistence with a few domesticated animals and scavenging thrown in. Now you're telling me that there is a group out there capable of creating an almost perfect model of a human?" Liam asked rhetorically. "Hell Daniel, why don't we join _them_?"

"I'm not at all sure that their technology in other fields is anywhere close to matching their robotics skill." said Daniel. "Would you believe that Vikia is the second – no, the third android I've met in the Capital Wasteland? One was a runaway and the other, the one I almost forgot, was the bodyguard of the man from the Commonwealth who was sent to retrieve the runner. The thing is, the man hunting the runaway had no special technology. His weapons were ordinary, he had no armor and his bodyguard had ordinary merc armor and a laser pistol."

"So how does being an android protect her from the super mutants?" asked Maggie, still concerned about Vikia's safety.

"Actually, I should have referred to Vikia as a _gynoid_, the prefix _gyno _being the feminine equivalent of the male _andro._" explained Daniel. "As for the super mutants and other threats, there is no absolute guarantee of her safety. Still, she can outsprint just about any creature in the Wasteland and she can maintain her speed for hours. Her skin is specially designed to be nearly as strong as most armor and she wears combat armor on top of it. Her strength is on a par with a super mutant and her perception and agility are higher than normal. In short, she can run away from just about anything in the Capital Wasteland and if she were ever cornered her attackers would be in for a really nasty surprise."

"The only problem," Daniel went on "is that if she _is_ injured we'll have a devil of a time repairing her. My engineering skills are quite good and I'm sure yours are even better Liam, and Vikia has her technical manuals imprinted as one of her subroutines. But the technology is like nothing I've ever seen. You can have a look when we reach someplace where we can relax our guard; I'd like to have your opinion."

"I'd love to have a look at the Institute's technology. For now, though, it sounds like we have an easier route to the Citadel than Vikia." said Liam. "I guess we should get on with it."

The three of them continued on their way silently, Liam and Maggie considering the astonishing revelation about Vikia and Daniel keeping his concern about her safety to himself.

……………**.**

"The 'dealership' is at the bottom of this slope." said Daniel. "You can't see it yet because the road curves to the west as it descends." The setting sun was obscured by a faded billboard on their right that was set back from the road. At one time this had been a residential area; the burnt frames of 200 year-old homes littered the landscape. The ruins of larger, industrial buildings stood some distance to their left.

The broken road disappeared entirely for several feet as it dropped into an earthen-walled gully. As the terrain flattened out again the chunks of old asphalt and concrete outlined the route to their destination. The dealership was a large building standing to the right of the roadway and flanked by large, fenced areas that presumably once held the inventory of the business. A Red Rocket refueling station stood nearby in symbiotic proximity to the dealership.

Across the road from the car dealership was a water tower surrounded by a fence. Beneath the tower sat the tell-tale evidence of an Enclave outpost. Portable blast barriers stood at strategic positions around the base of the tower and within the perimeter stood four, no five Enclave troopers.

Daniel raised his arm, bent at the elbow in the near-universal hand signal to halt. Maggie and Liam had spotted the troopers too and they slid into the foliage on either side of the roadway. Daniel crouched where he stood, a smaller target although he was still visible. Then he wasn't. The space that he had just occupied was now empty, or rather it was _distorted. _Liam observed the transformation and thought _stealth boy._ Robert Mayflower's adaptation of the Chinese Hei Gui Stealth Armor was a remarkable piece of engineering that produce a light field with a negative index of refraction. Instead of seeing an object, an observer sees a slight distortion of visible light along with some darkening, shadowing and a tiny amount of reflection. This is because no stealth field is perfect; there's always _some_ absorption of the light as it passes through the field – what the physicists called _lossy. _

As he was pondering the properties of the Stealth Boy Liam felt an object whiz by his head. At first he thought they had been spotted by the Enclave detachment and were being fired upon. Then he turned his head and noticed Maggie gesturing to him in annoyance. Well that was understandable; gathering wool in a gun battle was a good way to go toes up.

Maggie gestured again for a double flanking maneuver and Liam nodded. He unslung his sniper rifle and moved to his right. He had moved to the factory side of the road and would therefore be limited to firing across the roadway with ranged weapons. Maggie moved to her left through the low brush and behind the large rocks surrounding the fenced tower. She would use her Chinese assault rifle on automatic and could throw a lot of lead at the unsuspecting devil heads. Liam and Maggie had seen Daniel's plasma rifle and they knew the kind of destructive force the weapon could unleash. Trouble was, the Enclave troopers _all_ had plasma or laser weapons which meant they outgunned the Lone Wanderer and his raider companions.

Firepower alone, however, is a poor indicator of success in small unit engagements. Far more important is the element of surprise. So when he was sure that Maggie and Daniel had gotten themselves into position, Liam rested his sniper rifle on the branch of a bush, looked through his scope, found a target and squeezed off a head shot that sent the man in the officer's hat flying off his feet and over a footlocker with a substantial piece of his skull missing. Daisy let out a yelp and Liam folded the flap over the satchel saying "sorry baby girl." and looked through the scope for his next target.

Less than a second after hearing the retort of Liam's rifle Maggie opened up on a trooper preparing to relieve himself at the back edge of the fence. His body spasmed from the multiple hits and she moved to open fire on another trooper before the first man hit the ground. The two remaining troopers were lit up with a green-white burst of light before dissolving into piles of ash, even their Hellfire armor no match for Daniel's plasma rifle – a gift from Harkness. He checked the fallen troopers for any signs of life as Liam entered the fenced area followed by Maggie who had to work her way around the fence.

"Enclave tactics are fine in pitched battles," Daniel commented wryly, "but in this kind of guerilla engagement they're at a distinct disadvantage."

"They're so arrogant they didn't even post a sentry." Liam said with disdain.

"Let's see what they were carrying." said Maggie, ever mindful of potential loot.

"I don't want to search the whole building," said Liam, "but that smaller structure in the parking lot might suit for the night."

"I'll build a fire here in the middle of the Enclave camp." said Maggie. I'll bank it so it lasts most of the night. With any luck it'll distract anyone who wanders by long enough for us to see if they're a threat."

"Sounds good," said Daniel. "I'll check out our accommodations and start dinner." He walked across the road and entered the door to what appeared to be a service building. It was empty; not even a radroach made its home inside. He broke out three bottles of purified water and some Brahmin steaks before the others entered the small building.

"Purified water?" said Liam. "No offense Daniel, but were you ever a Boy Scout?"

Daniel laughed and said "It may surprise you to learn that I actually know what a Boy Scout is. But then you both had vault educations too, unless I miss my guess."

"You have long ears, Daniel." said Maggie.

"And a long tongue between them." finished Liam, though without rancor.

"It's not something I heard;" said Daniel, taking the good-natured ribbing in stride. "I just realized that you couldn't have learned the things you know in a raider camp. Engineering you could have picked up along the way, but Gaelic, literature, history – not to mention leadership, project management and even compassion – those aren't in the raider curricula."

Liam and Maggie exchanged a long look and then smiled at one another. Maggie nodded to Liam who returned the gesture and answered Daniel.

"You're right, of course, although we do come from the same stock as the original Khans. The Khans left our home, Vault 15, in 2161 to form their own settlement. Four groups left the Vault that year; three became raider clans and one founded the town of Shady Sands. Shady Sands is now known as NCR, the capital of the New California Republic. Both Maggie and I had kin who went the raiders who became the Khans; we also had family who went with Aradesh to found Shady Sands. Our immediate families stayed behind, but when we finally left we could have gone to live with either branch of the family.

"By the time Maggie and I left the Vault, Shady Sands had become NCR and one of my distant relatives was the President of the Republic. We could have lived out our lives in comfort there but we found it to be something of a police state." Liam explained. "My great-great Aunt, and Maggie's cousin, was a typical politician. She was nominally the head of a democratic state that she ran with the advice and consent of the NCR Congress. In fact, she was a dictator of the worst kind – one with good intentions."

"At least our raider relatives were honest about their intentions." added Maggie. "They actually kidnapped Tandi at one point. They were holding her for ransom but she was rescued by some semi-mythic figure who came from a vault and went on to become a hero of the wasteland. Sound familiar?" she teased.

"In the end we couldn't abide the raiders any more than the people from the NCR, so we left for the east coast." Maggie went on. "We had raider equipment and skills to go with everything we learned growing up in Vault 15. Still it took us more than a year to reach western Pennsylvania."

"There's a lot of river and lake traffic in that part of the continent, and Liam is a crack mechanic; his engineering skills are practical as well as theoretical." Maggie continued. "We threw in with some local traders who had fallen on hard times. Soon Liam had their boats running better than they ever had before and we started charging for local navigation and to pull boats that ran aground into deep water."

"Yeah, at least once a week some genius would ground his boat and then everything would come to a halt until the lane was cleared." said Liam. This was obviously a source of vexation for him. "We finally took matters into our own hands. We intercepted every boat that sought passage on the Allegheny or Monongahela rivers and depending on the water level, on the Ohio River, too. You often had enough space for more than one vessel on the Ohio so grounding wasn't all that critical. The traders complained; we weren't cheap, but the majority of them understood that this was far preferable to having the river lanes blocked randomly for who knows how long."

"This worked fine for a number of years, then the Brotherhood of Steel passed through on their way to the Capital Wasteland." said Liam. "Owen Lyons listened to a few disgruntled traders and made up his mind that we were the next thing to pirates and that I was Bluebeard reborn – all I needed was a bloody parrot on my shoulder and the skull and crossbones flying."

"At the time they were engaged in a battle with several clans of raiders in Pittsburgh. They sank most of our ships as an afterthought." Liam said, remembering the destruction. "They left one of their own, however – Ashur, and he rebuilt the raiders into one, big organized clan. Ashur asked me to help him open one of the pre-war steel mills and I was angry and bitter enough to agree. I went to work at the Pitt and Maggie left for the east coast. Can't say I blame her, except that she took all of our caps." Liam smiled. It was obvious that this was an issue that the two of them had worked through.

"That's quite a story." said Daniel. He found that in spite of their hardships he envied them their relationship. He had seldom seen two people more comfortable together, even after having spent almost twenty years apart.

"What about you?" Maggie asked. "I mean your life is something of an open book, at least if you listen to GNR. I'm guessing that everything I've heard on the radio is true. My question is: 'What have you left out?'"

"Yeah, Daniel, inquiring minds want to know the _whole_ story." said a voice that was curiously out of place.

"Even I know that it's not polite to eavesdrop." said Vikia. Everyone sat up and turned to the female who had just opened the door. It was Vikia, and she had the radio host of Galaxy News Radio in tow.

"Hello everyone. Daniel, I think you've met Three Dog." Vikia said. "Liam, Maggie, you've no doubt listened to GNR?"

"Three Dog? What are you _doing_ here? Who's minding the show?" asked Daniel.

"Relax Daniel. Even the one and only Three Dog needs a break once in a while. Margaret's handling the show while I'm gone." Three Dog said in his inimitable third person narrative.

"Margaret?" said Daniel. "She's, um, a nice woman, but she's …."

"She's not Three Dog!" he replied. "Of course she's not, but she believes in the cause and can keep the home fires burning while I'm out in the field."

"In the _field_?" Daniel said, incredulously.

"Why, what's the matter with that?" asked the DJ. "Three Dog was travelling the wasteland when the Lone Wanderer was a kid living in a vault, so not to worry Daniel."

"You're just too important to the people of the Capital Wasteland." Daniel insisted. "That's all I meant. I can see you're armed to the teeth. It's just that, well, I wouldn't try to run a radio show …." he trailed off, to the amusement of his companions as they imagined Daniel on the air.

"Is Sarah on her way to the Citadel?" asked Daniel, changing the subject.

"Sarah and Colvin left at the same time that we did." confirmed Vikia. "We traveled to the river together; then they headed south to the Arlington Bridge while Three Dog and I made the northern crossing.

Then something occurred to him. "How did you get here so fast, Three Dog? I know Vikia is really fast, but you?"

For the first time since entering the shack, Three Dog looked uncomfortable. "I, or rather Vikia, she, uh …."

"I carried him." Vikia announced.

Everyone tried to control their laughter but the image was too much to bear and the small building soon shook with laughter.

"OK, get it out of your systems." Three Dog said. "No one else here could keep up with an android either, I'd bet."

"An android?" said Daniel. "Vikia, telling Liam and Maggie is one thing, but Three Dog is a radio journalist and he takes his job seriously. He tells the truth, remember – 'no matter how bad it hurts'?"

"I've agree to keep this one to myself, at least until I can convince Vikia that androids need rights, too, just like ghouls and any other sentient creatures of good will." said Three Dog.

"Does that sentiment extend to raiders?" asked Liam who had indeed heard Three Dog on the radio as Vikia had suggested. He'd heard his frequent rants on the deeds and misdeeds of raiders and he wondered if the DJ had travelled through the DC ruins, across the Potomac and into the rural Capital Wasteland just to meet a couple of raiders with a crazy plan.

The room went silent then and all eyes went to the diminutive man with the distinctive head wrap and shades.

Three Dog paused for a moment and went thoughtful. Then he said "The one, the only criterion for supporting rights for a raider is whether the raider supports the rights of others."

"Fair enough, but how do you know when a raider is supporting another's rights?" asked Liam.

"By their deeds shall you know them." replied Three Dog, all banter gone now.

"Mathew 7:20, isn't it?" Liam said.

"Vikia said you were an educated man, Liam." said Three Dog. "The fact that you're travelling with Daniel tells me that he's willing to put aside his feelings about raiders, at least long enough to see if this project is for real. This could be the impetus the Capital Wasteland needs to become a viable society. It could also be a real kick in the teeth if it turns out to be a pipe dream, or worse yet, a scam."

"I think I understand." said Liam. "You won't get on the air and talk about this pipeline until you see it with your own eyes."

"I owe that much to my listeners; I owe them the truth." the DJ confirmed.

"OK, that makes a party of five. Let's get some sleep, people; it's a long day tomorrow." said Maggie. "I'll take the first watch."

……………**.**

There was a Jersey barrier butting up against the small building that made a fine spot from which to observe the only approaches to the parking lot. The fence would give them advance notice in most directions and the fire burning low across the road would attract anyone that happened by during the night. That was the theory, anyway; the Wasteland was littered with the corpses of people whose last thoughts were 'I didn't see _that _coming.'

That's why Maggie was happy when Vikia poked her head out the door and ambled over to find a spot behind the concrete barrier next to her.

"Maggie?" Vikia asked. "Do you mind if I sit here with you for a while?"

"Suit yourself." Maggie said, offering Vikia a drink of water.

Vikia peered into the caliginous evening feeling vaguely uncomfortable. "Maggie, are you OK with me being an android? I mean _I'm_ still trying to come to grips with not being human, I can't imagine how it is for everyone else."

"I don't know Vikia. I knew you before you were an android," Maggie said with a grin, "so it's sort of like when someone you know tells you something you didn't know about her past. It may give you a deeper understanding of the person, but it doesn't change your more visceral reaction to him or her. I guess what I'm saying is that basically, I like you, V; the fact that you're an android is a revelation but it's not a deal breaker."

"That's good to hear, Maggie, especially from a woman. I'm not just an android, I'm a _female_ android. I'm built with hormones, electro-chemical reactions wired to my visual and other sensory input, hunger, thirst and just about every other _human_ urge and need. At least I think I am; the bottom line is that I don't really know if what I feel is what a human feels."

"You sound as though this is keeping you up at night." said Maggie.

"Yeah, it's kind of making me crazy." Vikia admitted.

"Well, for what it's worth, that's _exactly_ the kind of reaction that a _human_ would have." Maggie said, sagely.

"Thanks Maggie, I think I needed to hear that." replied Vikia.

"Now that you've brought it up, V, I'm curious about some of the more mundane experiences of being an android." said Maggie.

"Such as?"

"You already told me that you eat and drink; do you _have_ to, or is it just for appearance sake?" asked Maggie.

"Both, really." said Vikia. "I need the same basic nutrients that humans do – so I extract protein, carbohydrates, fats and various minerals from the foods I eat. I do have more control over the digestive process, and I could eat inorganic materials and use _them_ for my energy needs with just a few tweaks to my system. Still, I eat and drink and because I don't use _every bit_ of material I ingest, I get rid of my waste the same way you do."

Maggie looked askance. "_Exactly_ the same way?"

"Well, mine doesn't smell as bad, but yeah, basically I piss and shit like anyone else." she said with a mischievous grin.

"That might be more than I needed to know," laughed Maggie, "but I _did_ ask. What about your reproductive organs? I mean, um, do you have periods?"

"Yes I do," said Vikia, "but I don't have cramps."

"Now see, that's really not fair." said Maggie, feigning outrage.

"Maggie, I want to ask about love; love and sex." said Vikia.

"That's the _big_ question when you're talking about being human, V." said Maggie. "Sex is easy. If you have the other basic instincts then I'm guessing you have sexual urges, too. Am I right?"

"You are." Vikia said. "At least recently. When I was at the Pitt I never had any thoughts about sleeping with anyone – not even with Daniel. That's where I met him, although it was a pretty brief meeting. I figured I was just, _different_ in that way. Now I think it was just because I was living with a bunch of psychopathic morons. Suppressing my emotions and sexual feeling was more of a defense mechanism than a reflection of my basic nature."

"Now that you're here these feelings are coming to the surface, then?" Maggie surmised.

"Yeah, big time. Daniel and I are pretty near to closing the deal if you catch my meaning." Vikia said sheepishly. "I just wonder if it's the right thing to do."

"My first thought was to say to go for it; you're both adults and Daniel is a good man. He'd treat you right and you'd have a partner who would respect you as a person. Not only that but he's probably good in bed." Maggie laughed with a slightly lascivious look about her. "The thing is, I forget how _young_ you are. You have a woman's body but you've only been _aware_ for a few months. It's true that you process information at an incredible speed, but in terms of experience you still have a lot to learn."

"So your original premise is incorrect?" asked Vikia. "You think I'm _not_ and adult?"

"You are and you aren't." said Maggie. "I think my advice is to take it slowly. Let me ask you, for example, how did you feel when you left Daniel to travel to GNR? Did you miss him? Think about him?"

"Yes and yes." said Vikia. "A lot. Is that normal? When he told me he was going to introduce me as his _girlfriend_ I was outraged, at least for a few seconds. Then I got all warm and feeling funny. It's all very confusing."

"If it's any consolation, V, that's as human an emotional response as I can imagine." Maggie smiled with affection. "Now get some sleep will ya? We have a long day tomorrow and I'm sure you're all in after carrying Three Dog across the Potomac."

"G'night Maggie."

"Back atcha."

……………**.**

Three Dog opened his eyes gingerly; whoever was shaking him better have a damn good reason. Then he realized he wasn't in the GNR studios any more.

"Oh, man. I was dreaming about bacon and eggs." he said. "I don't even know what bacon and eggs are, but there's all these pre-war books at the studios and …"

"Pork 'n beans or Sugar Bombs?" Maggie broke in. "Hate to rain on your parade."

"What do you think we'll be eating if your plan to start farming again gets some traction, Liam?" Three Dog asked between mouthfuls of the sweet, 200 year-old cereal.

"We're going to need some seeds to begin with." Liam answered. "The old government of the United States had a department in charge of growing things – Department of Agriculture they called it. The headquarters is in DC. I'm hoping they have a seed bank that's still intact. Daniel tells me there's a hydroponics lab at Rivet City. I don't know how extensive their stock is but they may have a lead on other sources of seeds. Daniel also told me about some fruit up in Point Lookout. If they grow fruit up there they may have some other plants as well."

"What about livestock?" the DJ continued.

"That may be the saddest legacy of the Great War." Liam said grimly. "Humans took a big hit; almost died out all together. We survived, though. Thousands of animal species didn't. I mean _animal_ in the broadest sense, Three Dog – basically anything that's not a plant. Insects, fish, bacteria, birds, as well as mammals – most seem to have been driven to extinction. Our only hope is that there are individuals of the species who survived in other parts of the world – that or maybe our scientists can clone some new animals from old DNA."

"I hope they can do that, Liam." said Three Dog wistfully. "I'd hate to eat Brahmin and Mirelurk for the rest of my life."

"If you're finished mooning over our lost cuisine, I think it's time we moved out." Daniel said, taking point and moving southeast toward the Red Racer factory.

……………**.**

Vikia fell in behind Daniel, followed by Three Dog, Maggie and Liam. They followed the road that ran past the factory for a couple of miles until it veered east. By this time they were passing ruined buildings rather than houses. Their line of sight was limited by the huge structures and they passed between them with caution. This was a sniper's paradise.

They continued to move south and east as the terrain permitted. Around noon they came to a divided highway that ran at the base of a steep slope on the far side of the road. Daniel activated a Stealth Boy and crossed the road as the others sought cover. He moved slowly to the top of the rise and into the lee of a large office building. He used his scope to examine the windows of the surrounding buildings; across the street Liam was doing the same thing.

Finally satisfied, Daniel threw a pebble back in the direction of the road. It made only a tiny ping but this was enough to let the others know that the road was probably safe to cross. One at a time they crossed the highway and climbed into the shade of the pillared building at the top. Resuming their column they hugged the northern wall and came to a well-preserved road that led up a hill in the direction of the factory.

They encountered three wastelanders who were heading down the hill in the opposite direction from them. Nods were exchanged but no words. Both parties were relieved to see others coming from the direction in which they were marching. If nothing else, it meant that there were probably no hostiles nearby.

Shortly thereafter they saw the large tricycle sign that informed them that they had reached their objective. They had to circle the building to find a loading dock door that they could open. The door was well-oiled and opened smoothly; evidence that raiders from Evergreen Mills had indeed reached this important factory and secured it.

The party gathered in the loading area while Liam moved into the surrounding corridor. He shouted for anyone in the building to reply to his hail and to his relief and amusement he was answered with a whoop and a raider yell. Two big men and a petite woman appeared on the catwalk above the factory floor at the end of the corridor.

Maggie had come running at the shouts and now stood next to Liam calling "Betty Boom, how the hell are you? What are you doing up there?"

"Shutting down the remote booby traps we installed on the doors. We weren't expecting company but Silvio rigged an external surveillance monitor to the building. We saw you coming a mile away!" she called back.

The big, dark-haired man to her left grinned and waved. "Hiya Maggie. Glad Betty didn't blow your ass away." he shouted.

The travelers stepped down the metal steps to examine the newly-repaired assembly lines. Liam dropped onto his back and pushed himself under the various belts, rollers and wheels of the conveyor systems. No metal stock had been delivered to the plant yet, so the only things moving down the conveyors were test boxes.

The raider advance team had been hard at work here. Silvio and Betty made their way down the stairway and gestured for Liam to follow them across the building to the production area. Liam did as he was bid noting that the hallways had been swept clear of debris and that progress had been made in the stairwells previously filled with rubble. Lolly columns had been placed strategically to shore up damaged retaining walls in the short term while masonry repairs were under way that would ensure that the building remained structurally sound for the next few years.

Daniel had joined the group as they turned a corner and walked out onto the machine room floor. Liam was impressed in spite of himself. Rows of milling machines, from the basic to cad cam-operated turning machines were standing ready. The walls were filled with grooving, drilling, turning and milling tools. Betty noticed the look on Liam's face and said "Hammer outdid himself, eh?"

"Who's that?" asked Liam, noticing what was left of a body hanging from the far wall.

"Butcher." said Betty. "He started a fight with one of the Huns and broke a lever off one of the presses. They hung him up as an example."

"Maybe we could change 'accident' to 'murder' on that sign." Daniel said to Liam under his breath. The sign read "Setting the standard. This department has worked 12 days without an accident."

"Not now, Daniel." Liam said uncomfortably. "Let's cut him down, Betty. We're going to need wasteland laborers sooner or later and that's not exactly an inducement."

"It's a bloody warning." murmured Daniel.

"Rome wasn't built in a day, Daniel." Liam said, anxious to leave before the rest of their group caught sight of the grisly reminder that they were still dealing with raiders.

"What's a Rome?" asked Betty.

"It's north of here." Liam dissembled.

"This is one impressive operation, Liam." Liam hadn't noticed Three Dog come up next to him. "And I love the décor – Raider Deco Nouveau?" he asked innocently.

"Rome wasn't …. Oh, what's the use?" Liam muttered. Then aloud he said "Great work, people. We'll have stock for you to work with by the beginning of next month."

A ragged cheer went up from the floor where, despite the body on the wall, Liam noticed a number of wastelanders in the workforce. They were cheering as loudly as the raiders. He wondered if they were being corrupted by the raiders or if the raiders were being civilized by the wastelanders. Liam looked sideways at Three Dog and saw that the DJ seemed to have noticed the same thing.

"Curiouser and curiouser." Three Dog quoted.

……………………………

Next: On to the Citadel.


	10. Chapter 10

"The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." - _Ecclesiastes 9:11 _

………………**..**

Chapter Ten: _Battles - Small_

With several hours of daylight remaining, the party headed due south. Almost immediately they noticed the Bailey's Crossroads Metro on their left at the bottom of a hill. Daniel recounted his inspection of the Metro some months earlier when he had helped the Brotherhood Outcasts run a battle simulation. He told them about the cage he found inside the Metro.

"The remains of a man sat in the cage with six bottles of water placed all around him, just out of reach. The man had obviously died of thirst." he said, remembering the grisly sight with barely suppressed emotion. "Some very evil characters live here. I'd like to pay them a visit but I think we should stay on task." The others agreed and they continued south.

They saw an Outcast outpost lying east of their path but they kept their distance. They moved between the broken buildings until they came to a highway that ran east to west. They turned east to travel the road. This made the going easier but it also made them easy targets for anyone with a sniper rifle. They passed the entrance to the appropriately-named Flooded Metro. They could have used these tunnels to come up within sight of the Citadel, but because the pipeline was going to run above ground they decided to follow the proposed route to Tenpenny Tower. The Tower would probably be the second destination of the pipeline project. The sun was setting behind them as they moved on.

Ahead Liam could see that the road dipped to run underneath an overpass. Maggie pointed out a row of makeshift metal sheets constructed along the south side of the roadway, a completely defensible position overlooking the road. Beyond the underpass were the remains of another raised highway. Anyone perched on top would have a clear view of anyone passing below.

In short, this was the most perfect sight for an ambush that they had ever seen, and for two raiders of Liam's and Maggie's experience, that was saying quite a lot. The party stopped to confer. Vikia had the best eyesight of the group and she confirmed that the infrared sensors in her retinas had picked up numerous bodies in motion behind the barricade.

"Two ways we can play this." said Liam. "One, we can take them by surprise and hope we can kill them all before they kill any of us. Vikia can see at least a dozen raiders and there's probably a few on the perimeter of the encampment. Two, we can try to talk our way around them. Maggie, what do you know about this clan?"

"They're tough and they don't play nice with any other groups, not even raiders." she said. "They're in a constant struggle with the Outcasts – numbers against technology. This place is a fortress; we could never attack it directly. Even the Outcasts only engage them on neutral ground. On the other hand, I don't think they'd grant safe passage for anyone – even the leader of the Khans. No, our only two choices are to go around them, perhaps by returning to the tunnels, or to use stealth to engage them."

"The Outcasts have no sense of stealth." she continued her analysis. "It's useless when you have a load of metal on your back. If we have enough Stealth Boys, we might be able to enter their camp in a group and fire out from the center. They'd have to hesitate to return fire toward the middle of their camp, especially against a nearly invisible enemy."

"I can see how you got your job." said Three Dog. "I'm glad I never ran into you out in the waste. I have one suggestion, though; there's a footbridge leading to the far end of the camp. You can barely see it over there, on the far side of the road and crossing into the camp at the other end. We can send one person over that bridge to cause a distraction. The raiders will come running. Our scout will have to head back over the bridge to avoid our fire."

"Yes, that way the raiders will all be bunched up in one place." Maggie agreed. "They won't have a chance."

"I'll take the bridge." said Vikia. "I can carry my Minigun at a dead run and when I get into position I'll fire a few quick bursts to get their attention. When I hear your attack I can fall back and hold the far end of the bridge against their escape."

"If we're going to do this, it should be sooner rather than later." said Daniel. "The sun is setting at our backs; it's an ideal position for approaching the camp."

"OK, who needs a Stealth Boy?" asked Liam. "We should each carry at least three, and stack 'em."

……………**.**

Vikia ran across the roadway, skirting the concrete barriers in the middle and climbing the slope on the other side. She turned and sprinted along the rising edge of the embankment, barely a blur even to those who knew what to look for. The rest of the group walked between piles of debris toward the gap in the wall of the barricade. One spike-headed raider walked a desultory path in the general vicinity of the entrance of the fortress. A second raider stood on a platform accessible only by a series of ramps. He had a panoramic view of the surrounding area but was blind to anyone approaching under his nose. There was an easily-defensible, narrow path into the heart of the camp. It was undefended; clearly the raiders here relied on their spotters. Bunk beds, mostly empty at this time of day, sat in small chambers along the sides of the passage.

The metal walls opened into the interior of the camp. Liam took a quick survey that revealed a galley to their left along the inside of the wall that abutted the road. Two wastelander slaves were hard at work preparing the evening meal. Liam hadn't considered the possibility of civilians who probably were slaves living in the camp. Maggie would back his play, whatever it might be, but he wished he knew what Daniel was thinking at that moment. The Lone Wanderer was capable of doing almost anything in order to protect the innocent and Three Dog almost certainly would follow Daniel's lead. Inciting a deadly cross-fire was out of the question now.

Liam continued his urgent examination of the camp. Opposite the kitchen was an armory in which several raiders sat making repairs to their equipment. To the right of the armory a group of seven or eight raiders were dicing enthusiastically. The far end of the camp apparently was reserved for drinking and using various chems. There were men and women nodding off in their own reveries while others spoke and whooped with great excitement and animation. Two couples were engaged in acts that would make a pornographer blush. Liam wondered absently what Vikia would make of them.

Just as Liam's thoughts turned to targeting hostiles Vikia opened up with her Minigun from the end of the bridge. She made quick work of the raiders drinking at a table near the bridge, then began to work her way through the adjacent raiders with a penchant for chems or sex. Liam shouted "Circle! Anywhere except the kitchen."

His team stood in a rough semicircle with Liam facing the bridge, Three Dog next to him facing the armory, Maggie taking aim at the gamblers and Daniel looking back at the way they had come in. Most of the raiders were running towards the bridge and those who weren't went to the walls. Liam opened fire and the others followed suit. Four raiders ran toward the entrance intending to man the defensive positions within the metal-walled maze leading into the compound. They were unaware that the enemy was already within the gates. Daniel hefted a silenced 10mm and picked them off as they scrambled into the passageway.

Maggie and Three Dog were carrying assault rifles and sprayed their respective targets repeatedly. Dice, bottles, cups and caps flew into the air as 5.56mm rounds ricocheted off the walls, the ground, the bunks, the tables and just about everything else in their path except the raiders. One thing that stopped a flying bullet cold was a human body. The raiders who weren't killed in the initial fusillade ran to the walls, convinced that an attack from without was in progress. Maggie had no qualms about gunning down the predators, shooting them in the back just meant there was a lesser chance that she would be killed herself. Three Dog hesitated for only a moment before cutting down the remaining raiders from the armory when they rushed to the walls. In that moment, however, one of the doomed raiders caught the flash from his muzzle and fired a last, lucky shot that caught the GNR host in the arm.

Liam was calmly sighting, aiming and shooting the raiders who remained at the far end of the camp. They were still under suppressing fire from Vikia and sought fruitlessly for shelter under tables and behind sundry pieces of furniture. The stronghold had almost fallen silent when he shot the last, shocked raider who failed to understand why the steel plate between him and the bridge had not saved his life. Liam turned and ran his eyes over the grisly tableau, heaving a deep sigh at the depth of the violence and their survival.

The Stealth Boys had not yet worn off and he noticed the wastelander cooks cowering under a table in what passed for the kitchen. He heard Daniel shout to them "You're safe, now. We aren't going to harm you; you're free."

"Free?" one of the women shot back hysterically, unable to locate the speaker. "Free to do what? Die? We were _safe_ here. Now what are we going to do?"

"But your neck – you're wearing a slave collar." Daniel protested.

"But we're _alive_! What happens the next time a super mutant comes along? It might kidnap us, or eat us or worse." the woman rejoined, not mollified.

Daniel wondered what might be worse than being eaten; then he noticed the flickering of Maggie's and then Liam's shape. The Stealth Boys were finally losing their charge. He saw Liam shaking his head and Daniel felt an odd moment of commiseration with the older man. This wasn't the first time his well-intentioned deeds had elicited a less than enthusiastic response, but he never failed to be surprised by the degree to which some people would give up their freedom in the pursuit of security. While that attitude might be understandable in some special cases, it was death to a society. When he had obtained the Declaration of Independence for Abraham Washington he had encountered a number of robots who had been programmed to believe they were the historical human founders of the United States of America. He could still remember the words of the Benjamin Franklin robot who said that any society that would give up liberty to gain security deserved neither and would lose both.

Three Dog's Stealth Boy was the last to wear off. When his form finally came into focus Maggie was the first to notice him wrapping a rag around his bleeding arm.

"Stimpak, here!" she shouted. Liam quickly reached into a pocket on his belt and tossed one to his mate. He and Daniel were at Three Dog's side in moments followed by Vikia who had set her Minigun on a table and ran the length of the camp. They set the wounded DJ on a table and raised his bandaged arm above his head. One of the many unusual things about this group of individuals was that every one of them had training in battlefield surgery.

Liam and Maggie had cleaned and stitched a great number of wounds similar to the one Three Dog had suffered. Daniel's father was a medical doctor of no small repute who had trained his son well for such emergencies. But Vikia, who had never so much as placed a band aid on a nicked thumb, nevertheless had preternaturally steady hands and could access a database of surgical procedures that made her the logical choice to repair her companion's arm. With plenty of alcohol for disinfectant and a medical kit in every pack, the garrulous proponent of _the good fight _was soon up and around with his arm in a sling.

"Takes more than a stray bullet to put the Great and Powerful Three Dog down." he said, still referring to himself in the third person and feeling the effects of the med-ex that Vikia had given him for the pain. Maggie stayed by his side, partly out of guilt that they hadn't thought to attach a flash suppressor on Three Dog's assault rifle. This simple modification disguised the location of a shooter and prevented him from being blinded by a gun's flash in dark conditions. Well now his gun was equipped with one as well as a muzzle brake to prevent the barrel from rising when firing rapidly.

Liam went back out the camp the way they had come in. He had left Daisy in an overturned barrel before going into combat. She was sleeping where he had left her, still wrapped in the blanket he had folded around her. He picked her up gently, not wanting to wake his new pup and carried her back to the raider camp. He carried her up the ramps and took the first watch of the night.

……………**.**

The group had now expanded to seven members; the two wastelander women had begged to come along and Liam couldn't say no under the circumstances. If they stayed in the now empty camp they would be unlikely to live out the week. Silvia and Hanu took their pick of the raider weapons and armor and were packed and ready to depart by dawn. The group moved east on a line-of-sight with the Arlington Public Library.

"The last time I was here there was a Talon Company outpost between the library and the river," said Daniel, "so keep your eyes open." They moved down the hill until it opened up into an broad field that once might have been used for the parking of automobiles. The ruined raised highway stood overhead and on the other side stood the Arlington Library in a line of buildings. To the right, or the southeastern side of the library stood another, three-sided structure with the narrow end facing them. Daniel crept slowly between the two buildings, zigzagging right and then left at the end of the road and finding himself within view of the Potomac River.

He held up an arm to stop the party and then crouched to reduce his visibility while he examined the open expanse of debris that stood between them and the Potomac. He signaled for the others to join him; Maggie moved alongside him on the right while Liam moved to his left.

"That's where the Talons had their base." Daniel said, gesturing to the right, downstream from them. "It's been a few months now; they may have moved."

"I don't think they moved." Vikia said, standing at Daniel's shoulder. "I can see a number of bodies strewn across the barbed wire in front of those trucks and barriers. There are crows, too. They're circling"

Liam said "Let me have a closer look; keep an eye out for me." He jumped down into a low-lying ditch to their right and quickly made his way toward the Talon outpost. Keeping his head down, he rolled over the last two barriers forming the northeast perimeter of the camp and came to his feet. He needn't have bothered with stealth. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. What could have done this to what looked to be a full company of Talon Company mercs?

He walked around a overturned truck and found his answer. Black-armored Talons and green-yellow super mutants lay everywhere in a macabre dance of death. Here, a Talon lay on his back with his rifle pointed to the sky; a super mutant master lay across him with his stomach blown away, his hands around the merc's throat. Several super mutants lay hanging on the barbed wire barrier nearby, their bodies creating a bridge across which their fellows must have come across in a desperate rush into the heart of the outpost. In all, hundreds of bodies were strewn across the compound.

Liam noticed one mound of bodies that surrounded several tents and vehicles. The bodies were piled waist deep here and steam still rose from open wounds. This must have been the Talon headquarters and Liam realized he was seeing the site of their last stand. A ham radio stood on a table, incongruously undamaged in the carnage. He realized the behind the static coming from the radio he could also hear a man's voice. He walked to the table, picked up the mike and pushed the _send_ button.

"Hello, this is … someone you might consider an enemy, but not the person responsible for what I'm looking at here." he said.

"Who is this? No, never mind that. What is it that you're looking at?" the voice questioned.

"A massacre." said Liam. "Your outpost has been wiped out to the last man. Dozens, if not hundreds of men and women are just … lying here, dead. There are super-mutant bodies all around. This outpost must have come under attack by … _hundreds_ of them. I've never seen anything like it."

"Who _is_ this?" the voice asked again, quietly this time.

"I'm Liam Conal, of Evergreen Mills." he said. "I was passing by and noticed the birds."

"Birds?"

"Have you ever been on a battlefield, mister?" asked Liam.

"Too many times, and I do catch your drift now, Mr. Conal." said the man. "Thank you for picking up our call, and don't be so quick to assume we are enemies. We have no contract in relation to you or yours and our only enemies are those whom our employers pay us to kill. One thing more; do you have any idea where these super mutants are now?"

"None, but I have a bad feeling that I'll find out before long." said Liam. He broke the connection.

……………**.**

Liam rejoined his comrades and reported what he had seen as well as his conversation with the Talon on the radio. There was an air of apprehension as they turned north along the Potomac in the direction of the Citadel. The day was hot and the sun was rising to its zenith as they caught their first sight of the massive five-sided building that served as the headquarters for the Eastern Brotherhood of Steel. Liam thought that he caught the heat shimmer of the road surrounding the southern end of the building. Rather than rely on Vikia's vision again he jumped up on an abandoned vehicle and pulled out his telescope.

What he saw made his blood run cold. Through the eyepiece he saw a roiling sea of green and yellow – super mutants standing shoulder to shoulder. They held weapons of all kinds and were milling around the periphery of the Citadel. There must have been hundreds of them. From the west he could see more mutants swarming between the buildings there and heading in the direction of the main body. When he swung his glass to the east he saw mutants in the water _swimming_ across the Potomac in a frenzy to reach the conflict.

This was impossible; super mutants avoided water like the plague and with good reason – they couldn't swim! He saw mirelurks on the banks of the rivers staring open-mouthed and confused. The creatures weren't intelligent as humans understood the word but apparently this was such an affront to their instincts that their only reaction was to stand uncomprehendingly and watch the scene unfold.

The strangest thing of all was that the battle had not yet been joined. Oh, some of the mutants were firing rounds indiscriminately but there was no concerted effort to assault the walls of the Citadel. For their part, the Brotherhood had not yet activated the turrets that stood at close intervals along the top of the walls, nor had the knights manning the fortifications opened fire on the horde.

There was a small vessel in the water. It was no doubt trying to escape the mutant tide although there was something anomalous about the boat that Liam couldn't put his finger on. Suddenly he had no more time to consider the situation; the super mutants that were coming ashore had spotted them. "It's super mutants." he yelled to the group. "They're about to attack the Citadel."

"How many are there?" Daniel shouted back.

"All of them." whispered Liam.

……………………………

Next: The Citadel, of course.


	11. Chapter 11

"They sicken of the calm, who know the storm" – _Dorothy Parker_

………………**..**

Chapter Eleven: _Before the Storm_

Liam pulled away from the telescope's eyepiece and snapped "Here they come! Get into that building!" He jumped down off the car and heeding his own command began to sprint for the huge cubical structure that stood across from the broad plaza to the south of the Citadel. Everyone followed. They climbed single-file into a small opening in the western wall where the mortar had crumbled. When the super mutants came after them they would have to enter one at a time.

Except that none of them did. Daniel carefully peered back out the way they had come in. Their pursuers had stopped running and were now milling around the plaza with the rest of the mutants. They apparently had lost interest.

"They're gone." said Daniel, a puzzled look on his broad face. "What's going on here?"

"Are east coast super mutants normally so … fickle?" asked Liam.

"No." several voices replied in unison.

Three Dog continued after exchanging looks with the others. "Normally the Frankensteins will keep coming on blindly, even in the face of overwhelming odds. This is really strange."

"I ain't complaining." said Silvia, her neck still raw from the recently-removed collar. "Now shut the fuck up before you jinx us."

"God has seen to our salvation." Hanu added. "It is not for us to question His reasons."

"It's still pretty damn peculiar, you must agree." The speaker was a man dressed in some oddly-constructed kind of combat armor and what appeared to be an Australian slouch hat. What stood out the most, however, was neither his armor nor his headgear; the speaker was a ghoul.

"Are you wearing a _Digger_?" asked Liam?

"Liam!" scolded Maggie. "This is not the time."

"You know I've always fancied a Digger, Maggs," Liam continued, "but I suppose you're right. Do you know _why_ the big uglies are acting all lethargic?"

"Haven't the foggiest." the ghoul said sticking his hand out. "Gideon Hart. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

To his credit, Liam took the proffered hand without flinching and introduced himself in turn. Hart wore fingerless gloves, however, and when Liam released his grip his hand came back with no tissue fragments attached. The rest of the party followed suit and once the pleasantries were complete Maggie asked "Mr. Hart?"

"Gideon, please. We're all facing almost certain death and dismemberment at the hands of this horde of mutants. Don't you think we should be on a first name basis?"

"Of course. Gideon, then." said Maggie. "Have you searched the rest of this building for mutants?"

"This building is my home." said Gideon. "It appears to be devoid of mutants. Curious, as they normally prefer to live in some kind of shelter. I was watching from above when I saw you approach. I'd suggest we adjourn to the top floor. It's defensible, it's open to the roof in places and I have … quarters there. You can make yourselves comfortable – at least until the mutants attack and kill us."

"How long have you been here, Gideon?" asked Daniel, his curiosity for the moment causing him to ignore the invitation.

"Oh, let's see; I guess that next month it will be two hundred and eleven years."

No one spoke. Even the mutants massed outside were forgotten for the moment. Finally, Daniel said "You're serious. And you're not mad, are you?"

"Unfortunately no, though not for lack of trying I assure you." Gideon answered glibly. Then in a more serious tone he went on "In 2077 I was an Australian military attaché to the United States of America, a post I had held since 2076. On the evening of October 23rd I attended a performance of King Lear that was held in the theatre down the hall. At one time this was the home of the Washington Shakespeare Company. The bombs fell at 10:47 PM; just before the final curtain. The play is certainly bloody, but it's no match for what followed."

"You've been here for more than 200 years?" Vikia asked, wide-eyed.

"Well, I do forage, and I stay out of the way of those knights." he said, indicating the Citadel with a nod in its direction. "Once in a while I'll take a trip to Underworld, but after nearly two hundred and forty years on this planet I sometimes find the company of others to be tiresome."

"You don't sound Australian." Liam pointed out.

"You don't sound like a raider." Gideon countered.

"Touché."

Liam studied the man, trying not to appear rude. He was of average height and build; come to think of it, he had never seen an obese or even a fat ghoul. He still had most of his hair which he wore in an archaic comb-over. He realized that the ghoul's armor looked odd because it was probably as old as Gideon himself. It was clean, or as close to clean as things get these days. And he was _old_. Old, Liam thought with a flash of intuition, is good. When everything you know about the pre-War world comes from books and holotapes, an authentic memory of the past is damn near priceless.

"We could use your help." said Liam.

"We can help one another." replied Gideon. "I think it unlikely that we will survive whatever is taking place outside, but undoubtedly we are stronger together than alone."

"Yes, we _can_ help each other stay alive, Gideon; but I had something different in mind." Liam said cryptically.

Gideon smiled, nodded once and said "I'd like to hear about it Liam, but let's talk upstairs. I have a couple of bottles of a '65 Australian Merlot that I've been saving for a special occasion."

"Sounds wonderful Gideon; most wines don't last 12 years these days." Liam said as he headed for the stairwell.

"Actually, it was bottled in _20_65." said Gideon, following him.

…………………**.**

Hart's suite was spacious – palatial even. "Even Dukov doesn't live like this." said Daniel absently.

"Dukov? That old sybarite? How is he?" asked Gideon.

"Um, well he ran afoul of a ghoul by the name of Crowley a few months back." Daniel informed him. "Nearly lost his head."

"Hardly surprising in his line of work, but all's well that ends well." Gideon concluded. "Now let's have a look at our guests."

The top floor of the Theatre building had lost half its roof and a portion of the northeast wall when the bombs fell. Gideon had placed camouflage netting over the gaps in the structure which gave him a panoramic view of the surrounding area without fear of detection. The spectacle below was becoming ever more incredible. Super mutants were still streaming in from both the west and from across the river. The crowd below had swelled to several thousand.

"If they attack the Citadel the Brotherhood is finished." said Three Dog gloomily. "There are maybe 200 knights and other fighters in there and maybe the same number of scribes and other members of the order."

"We're missing something." said Maggie. "There's no organization down there. The muties aren't speaking to one another; there's no leader. This isn't a call to arms; it's a spontaneous assembly of creatures who aren't spontaneous and who never assemble."

"Or that's the way it's supposed to look." said Liam.

"Very astute, all of you." said Gideon. Liam felt for a moment that he was being patronized, then realized that a military officer and survivor of two hundred years in the Capital Wasteland might well be worth listening to. He surreptitiously examined the ghoul's hat but was distracted as Gideon began his analysis of the situation.

"What do we know?" the ghoul asked rhetorically. "One, super mutants never congregate in groups of this size, but here they are. Two, they don't like water, but out there we see them swimming the Potomac. Three, when super mutants see a knight in power armor they invariably attack, but these mutants seem to be indifferent to the knights on the walls."

"So we have anomaly piled upon anomaly." Gideon posited.

"We have a pile of Brahmin shit." corrected Sylvia who was becoming comfortable enough to make a contribution to the discussion, such as it was.

As if on cue, Daisy poked her tiny head out from around the corner of the wet bar. Unable to find a way outside she had relieved herself on the floor tiles. Gideon gave a start and then smiled. He hunkered down and gently clapped his hands together capturing the attention of the puppy. Daisy pawed at the tile in a fruitless effort to bury her mess. Then she yapped happily in response to the sound and trotted over to Gideon who picked her up in his arms. "By God, it's a heeler!" the ghoul cried.

"A what?" said Liam.

"A heeler; an Australian Blue Heeler – it's a cattle dog, used for herding animals in Australian before the War. My family had one when I was a lad; never thought I'd see another. Often they'll have different colored eyes, like this little one."

"Heterochromia." said Liam.

"Gesundheit!" Gideon replied.

Ignoring the jest Liam went on "Daniel owns her mother. He normally travels with her, but she has the pups now …." said Liam as he glanced over at Daniel.

Daniel caught the hint and said "Yes, of course. There are several other puppies if you're interested."

Gideon pondered the idea. A pensive look came over him, oddly incongruous given the characteristically wooden rictus that afflicts most ghouls. Finally he smiled and said "A dog may be just what I need. In fact, it might be time for me to take an interest in the broader world again; if we survive the next twenty-four hours that is."

Liam noticed that there was an emblem sewn onto Gideon's hat. It was a gold ribbon with a crown in the middle and a sunburst radiating 180 degrees above the crown. The words on the ribbon read "The Australian Army." There was also a medal that rested on the breast of his armor. It was circular and made of gold-plated silver. It was ensigned with a Crown and sat below a ribbon held in place by a narrow gold bar. The ribbon had a design of alternating light and deep orange chevrons in a series of upside-down 'V's .

"I see from the emblem on your hat that you were in the army." said Liam. "See much action?"

"Some." Gideon replied noncommittally.

"What about the medal?" Liam persisted. He did not want to appear rude, but felt that he had to learn what he could about their host.

"It's just a medal, not all that uncommon." Gideon answered, appearing uncomfortable now.

"Not just _any_ medal, though." said Maggie. She had gone to the wall and was reading from a plaque. "It's the Medal for Gallantry; one of the highest award given in the service to your country and Commonwealth." she said.

"You're not some armchair officer, then." said Liam. It was not a question.

"I saw action in the Resource Wars and the American invasion or the Chinese mainland in '74." he said, confirming Liam's suspicions. "After that I returned to Australia and was assigned to my _current_ posting."

"How do you think we should play our hand?" asked Liam, getting to the point. "You probably have more combat experience than everyone in this room combined. I'm also guessing that you're not defenseless here."

"Quite right." Gideon confirmed. "I have the turrets that you see mounted on the walls and I also have half a dozen robots, a Gutsy, four Sentry Bots and a Robobrain."

"Just enough to slow down the big uglies for about ten minutes." Maggie said.

"I'm afraid so." Gideon admitted.

"What about weapons?" asked Three Dog. "The only thing that might give us a chance is mini nukes."

"No. No nukes. I've seen enough nukes to last me several lifetimes." said Gideon.

"Can I quote you on that?" the DJ queried. The journalist in Three Dog knew a good story when he heard one.

"What about escape?" asked Hanu. The former slave was glancing uneasily at the sea of mutants below. She clearly would have preferred to be anywhere other than where she now found herself.

"I'm afraid I don't have a bolt hole." said Gideon. "Living next to the Brotherhood I never guessed that I'd need one."

"Once evening falls you might be able to sneak out the way we came in." Daniel answered Hanu. "If they see you, though, it seems that they _will_ pursue you – at least until they lose sight of you."

"They'll run you down and toss you in a pot, you fool." said Sylvia, concerned about her fellow captive. "There must be something else we can do."

"There may be something at that." said Liam.

"You have a plan?" asked Maggie.

"Yes, but it's a last resort and I'm not sure how our host will like it." he said, looking in Gideon's direction.

"I'll try to keep an open mind." Gideon said acerbically.

"What's the capacity of the theatre in this building?" Liam asked.

Gideon looked as if he was now wondering if Liam was the madman. Nevertheless he answered "About 4,500."

"How attached are you to your home, Gideon?" Liam continued, more softly this time.

Understanding dawned in the ghoul's eyes and he replied "Very, but I'm even more attached to living. Funny, isn't it? You'd think that after more than 200 years in this hell a man would welcome death. I guess I just got used to being alive."

Liam paused and looked around the room at each of them, one at a time. He said "We mine the building, lure the muties in, jump off the roof and blow the building behind us."

Daniel realized what Liam had in mind immediately and smiled grimly. Three Dog was the first to recover his ability to speak. "You want to elaborate on that part about jumping off the roof? I mean the voice of Galaxy News Radio cannot afford to damage his vocal cords, much less break every bone in his fucking body!"

The others voiced their agreement with varying degrees acrimony and stupefaction. Liam held up his hands.

"Whoa, wait a minute." he said. "I mean we have rope that we can attach to the window casings. We can rappel down the wall when the building fills with mutants. We'll have to put up a fight and retreat into the theatre. We can place the bots and most of the turrets there to keep the mutants attacking. As long as something is shooting at them they'll continue to charge into the building."

"We can't expect to draw all the mutants into the building, said Daniel, but if we rappel down the south wall we might be able to escape in the confusion."

"It's a workable plan." said Gideon. "You won't even have to worry about the placement of the charges. I mapped out the structural load points years ago."

"You anticipated blowing your home up?" asked Maggie.

"Not under precisely these circumstances," he answered, "but when you have a couple of hundred years on your hands you engage in all kinds of speculative behavior."

"This is an unusual building." said Liam. "Do you anticipate any problems?"

"Frankly, I do." Gideon said. "As you no doubt noticed, this structure is essentially one, big hole with a roof overhead. In most buildings you would simply blow out the main load-bearing beams from the inside out and watch the rubble fall in on itself. With a theatre, though, you don't have enough weight over the middle to guarantee that the building will fall at all, much less fall inward."

"So if you aren't precise you could end up with the first floor in the basement and four walls that either fall outward or don't fall at all." Liam said.

Daniel added "In which case you have a few thousand angry super mutants sitting in a hole in the ground."

"Just so." said Gideon. "The exterior walls take almost all of the weight, so they're built quite sturdily. You have to use a lot of explosives, blow the _inside edge_ of the exterior walls first and only then do you explode the outer walls. If you do it properly the walls and the roof fall inward, burying the mutants. Fortunately I've had 150 years to study the blueprints and pinpoint the locations of the charges."

"I wish there was another way, Gideon." said Maggie.

"Oh I don't really mind." he said. "It's just God's way of telling me I need a change in my life. I just have a few keepsakes to pack; Liam and Daniel can start laying the charges. I'll be with you presently."

"How are we going to entice them into the building?" asked Three Dog. "The timing could be tricky. If they come in too quickly, we might be unable to escape; too slowly and most of them could be still outside when we're forced to evacuate."

"If they ever start acting like super mutants again I don't think we'll have a problem with them coming in too slowly." said Gideon, going through boxes of his possessions. "Maybe I'll just go out and moon 'em. If a naked ghoul butt doesn't provoke the bastards I don't know what will."

"Wait." said Maggie, who was trying without success to stifle her laughter. "As appealing as your butt may be, I don't want to hang our chances on it."

"What else can we do?" asked Gideon.

"Does the theatre's sound system still work?" she asked.

"Yes it does." he answered. "I keep it in repair so I can play music on it when the mood strikes. Other times I use the microphones to read Shakespeare in memory of those who lost their lives here. It can get a bit macabre, though; you haven't heard the definitive Puck until you've heard him read by a ghoul.

"_My mistress with a monster is in love._

_Near to her close and consecrated bower,_

_While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,_

_..._

_I led them on in this distracted fear_

_And left sweet Pyramus translated there,_

_When in that moment (so it came to pass)_

_Titania waked, and straightway loved an ass."_

Maggie swallowed what began as a flip comment and remarked only "Yes, that will do nicely. Can some of the speakers be mounted so they face out the windows?"

"Certainly; in fact, there's a small amphitheatre on the north side of the building. There are already speakers in place for the performances they used to put on under the stars in the summer. The wireless microphones will allow us to broadcast from wherever we are standing."

"Then I'll begin recording some insults while Daniel and I are placing the charges." said Liam. "You go ahead and moon the muties; that'll get their attention. Then we'll let the bard incite them to riot."

"I think you're all nuts," said Three Dog, "but if anyone is going to _broadcast_ insults to these super mutants it's going to be the guy who's been insulting them for years on the radio. Just give me a script with a few lines and I _guarantee _they'll know exactly who's talking to them."

"Sounds like we have a plan." said Daniel as he turned to face Liam. "Shall we set the charges?"

They marched into the bowels of the building, blueprints in hand.

…………………**.**

"I don't care if it's a lie, Reginald; just tell the troops that Daniel Cole is on the way." Owen Lyons was exasperated. He and his oldest friend, Scribe Reginald Rothchild stood atop the southern wall of the Citadel and scanned the sea of super mutants that continued to swell. He wondered when they would crash against the walls of the fortress and whether their assault would break them down.

"I'll send word along the ramparts and to the personnel below, Elder." Rothchild said formally. There was something heartening in receiving orders and passing them along to men and women who would follow them without question. It reminded everyone that their training and loyalty were second to none and that whatever the odds, hope could never be _lost_, it could only be _abandoned_.

The fact that the mutants hadn't attacked yet should have been reassuring; in fact it was a double-edged sword. A man or woman didn't become a fighter for the Brotherhood of Steel without a deep well of aggressiveness. However thoroughly it might be subordinated to the greater good, the fact remains that once an evil is identified most knights relish a good fight. On the other hand, there were just _so many_ of them. Glory was good in the abstract, but all other things being equal the defenders would have preferred a battle in which the odds were at least _somewhat_ even. These were brave men and women, but they were not fools. These weren't the 300 Spartans on the wall; the super mutants below were not the Persians at Thermopylae.

"And I'm no Leonidas." thought Lyons. "I'm just an old man whose time may finally have come."

His daughter Sarah had fought her way _into_ the fortress before the super mutant numbers grew to the point where further reinforcement was impossible. "Why did you have to come?" he thought, immediately rejecting the emotion. Sarah was a warrior; where else _would_ she be when everything she has ever known was under threat of annihilation?

Still, she was his daughter, his only child and heir apparent to the leadership of the Eastern Brotherhood. A man could be forgiven his love for his child, his … hope for a miracle.

…………………**.**

"New guy! Front and center!" Sarah Lyons wasn't good with names; she didn't have time for them. If a new member of the Pride lasted for a month, _then_ she'd bother learning his name; otherwise it was just wasted effort.

"Farrell, ma'am. Initiate Sean Farrell reporting for duty, ma'am."

"You're replacing two good soldiers, Farrell – Reddin and Jennings." Lyons informed him in her clipped, military manner. "We're short of personnel right now and you've been recommended by both Paladin Kodiak and Scribe Bowditch. That's unusual, Initiate; are you a secret Scribe? Are you sure you wouldn't rather be repairing power armor?"

"No ma'am. I'm here to fight." Farrell said.

"Well, that's the right answer at least." Lyons replied. "How old are you, Farrell?"

"Twenty or so, ma'am."

"You don't know your own birthday?" she asked.

"No ma'am. I was … left at the Citadel when I was a baby. I guess my parents didn't think they could take care of me. I never knew them and I'm not sure exactly how old I was when I got here." the young man answered.

Lyons looked up from her work and made a mental note to ask her father about the kid. He was young but very promising, at least according to the reports. Tall and athletic, he had a long, intelligent face with deep, seemingly unfocused brown eyes.

"Hell of a time to join the Pride, Farrell." she said. "But if you're sure this is what you want go see Bowditch and pick up your armor."

"Yes ma'am!" he said with determination. He left at a jog.

Lyons shook her head and went back to work.

…………………**.**

"How long before we turn 'em loose, LT?" Enclave Gunnery Sergeant Edward "Gunny" Mitchell continued to peer out the porthole as he addressed his superior – a technical breach of protocol, but no one was interested in protocol at the moment.

"Why, are you in some kind of hurry, Gunny?" The reason Lieutenant Vernon Tubbs wasn't interested in protocol was because he was staring out the porthole next to the one his subordinate was using. What he saw was enough to capture his undivided attention.

"Yes sir! Damn right, sir! Can't wait to see the Citadel torn down to its foundations, sir!" the man replied. Then he added "I wouldn't mind getting the fuck out of here either, sir." Then more quietly, "I've got nine years in, LT; I've never seen anything like this before."

"Me either, Gunny; me either." the Lieutenant affirmed.

"We'll 'turn 'em loose', as you so colorfully describe it Sergeant, just as soon as Command _tells_ us to. In the meantime I suggest that you spend less time running your mouth and more time watching out for trouble. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir, Major, perfectly clear." said Mitchell. Under his breath he said "Blow it out your ass, Major _Doctor_ D'Urberville."

The lieutenant looked obliquely at his Gunny. He saw that the doctor hadn't heard the _sotto voce_ remark and let out his breath. He and Mitchell were Hellfire Troopers. They received the best training, the best armor and the best weapons. Even among the Hellfire there were elite troops. Mitchell and Tubbs were members of the _Black Watch_. This meant that after having all that Enclave money thrown at them in the form of training and equipment, these men had gone out and actually exceeded Enclave expectations.

Meeting and then exceeding what is expected of you is no mean feat when it comes to the Enclave. Edward Mitchell had been capturing Deathclaws for the past three years. He was one of the few men to survive so long on an assignment that normally ended in the death of its members within the first month. "And _this_ is my reward_."_ he thought.

The irony was that he had _asked _for this job. Normally, a detail providing assistance and protection to the scientists of the Enclave was a soft assignment. His duties sometimes required him to accompany the scientists into the field. Field work could be dicey, but the Enclave normally was loath to expose their technical people to extreme hazards. Unfortunately for his team, Mitchell thought, these were hardly _normal_ times.

The Enclave has been almost completely run out of the Capital Wasteland by the Brotherhood of Steel. Their main base at Raven Rock as well as their fallback positions at Adams Air Force Base and the Satellite Relay Station had been overrun by the technologically inferior Brotherhood. The most galling aspect of the situation was that it had been entirely unnecessary. Augustus Autumn had seen an opportunity to exercise political control over the Wasteland by seizing and completing Project Purity. He had been overruled by the President, ZAX AI John Henry Eden. Eden had planned to deploy the same lethal strain of the FEV that former president Richardson had ordered developed at the Mariposa Military Base.

The only difference between the two strains was that the west coast version was airborne while the strain that President Eden wanted to add to Project Purity was liquid-based. Mitchell knew he was no Stanislaus Braun but couldn't they see that a liquid toxin introduced at the mouth of a river was unlikely to infect the intended population? Sure, there would be a number of casualties, but as soon as word spread that the water from Project Purity was lethal the inhabitants of the Capital Wasteland would return to whatever they had been drinking before the Project came online.

Meanwhile, Doctor D'Urberville's _Synthetic Telepathy_ project flew under the radar, all but ignored by the upper echelon of the Enclave until the catastrophic events of the past few months forced a frantic re-evaluation his work.

The man was an asshole, no doubt about it. He had all the tact of a feral and none of the charm. "That's no way to get your project approved by the higher-ups." Mitchell thought. You need to play the political game, not show disdain for anyone who can't understand 11-dimensional M-theory or manipulate nucleotide bases using DNA sequencing and bioinformatics. No, the mad doctor was a desperate last resort and damned if he hadn't come through.

Mitchell didn't understand the science, or even the broad strokes of the concepts. He just knew that there were two steps involved: first get the mutants to mass in one location using electronic signals, and second, get them to attack using chemical stimulants. Simple, right? Well it was scientific mumbo-jumbo to him, but at least the LT could follow the doc – up to a point. Tubbs was _smart._ He knew exactly what D'Urberville was doing and more importantly, he knew when the Major was on solid ground and when he was flying by the seat of his pants.

The _Major_ – all the Enclave doctors were at least captains – was prone to going off on tangents when something struck his fancy. Lieutenant Tubbs was chosen for his scientific expertise as much as for his combat experience. D'Urberville didn't like having a technical babysitter, but he was stuck with the LT and made the best of it, employing Tubbs as a lab assistant whenever the LT would have it.

After weeks of frantic work getting the boat fitted with the necessary equipment, testing it for bugs and installing redundant backup systems, the six-man crew found itself with nothing to do but wait. It might have given them a well-deserved chance to catch up on their sleep had the boat been anchored anywhere but 100 yards off the shore of the Potomac River with several thousand super mutants milling around within earshot. As it was, Tubbs was taking the opportunity to educate Mitchell on the scientific parameters of the project.

"Everyone knows that the Vault 87 strain of the FEV makes for less intelligent super mutants, but also bigger and stronger super mutants." the Lieutenant was saying.

"Um hum. Of course. _Everyone_ knows that." Mitchell said, keeping a straight face.

Tubbs grinned. He knew that Mitchell was no dummy. He had just learned, in the best military tradition, to keep what he knew to himself lest he be called upon to put his knowledge to use. That meant more work and there was already more than enough work to do.

"The reason the mutants are so stupid" Tubbs continued, "is that the Vault 87 FEV deteriorates the anterior frontal lobe of the brain – the area responsible for higher cognitive functions and the development of personality. Less well-known is that the posterior frontal lobe and the parietal lobe behind it become highly sensitized as the anterior counterpart devolves."

"Damned parietal lobe. It's always the problem." Mitchell deadpanned.

Tubbs was undisturbed by the sarcasm; he knew Mitchell was following his explanation. If he didn't, he'd ask Tubbs to rephrase. That was Mitchell's way.

"The posterior frontal lobe controls motor function and the parietal lobe contains the primary sensory cortex." Then he explained the heart of the matter. "The upshot is that the super mutants created by the Vault 87 FEV are particularly susceptible to external stimuli, especially _electronic_ stimuli. The Enclave, and the US government before us, worked to develop methods of control that use electronic energy sources."

"Right." said Mitchell, finally allowing his interest to show. "That's what our researchers call "Synthetic Telepathy."

"Exactly." said Tubbs. "It describes the beaming of words, thoughts, or ideas into a person's mind by mechanical means, specifically, some type of electromagnetic transmitter, similar to a radio broadcast, operating in the microwave frequency band. The beauty of Doctor D'Urberville's project is that you don't need to put any kind of complex ideas into their heads; they couldn't process them in any case."

"All you need to do is to broadcast a destination, not in the sense of 'Go south for 10 miles', but only on a directional line." he continued. "The super mutants can sense when they're going in the correct direction because the signal becomes stronger."

"The doctor spent years experimenting with the correct frequencies and signal strengths. He finally settled on flooding the airways with microwave signals between 1310 MHz and 2982 MHz at an average power density of 0.4 to 2.0 mW/cm2. Just about every super mutant in the Capital Wasteland is susceptible to the signals. The only two requirements to hear the microwave-induced sounds are good bone conduction and the ability to hear acoustic energy above 5 kHz."

"Piece of cake." Mitchell exhaled. His concentration on the explanation was such that for a moment he'd forgotten to breathe.

"If only." replied Tubbs.

"So we threw a party. The guests are here and they're having a good time. How do we get them to burn down the neighbor's house?" asked Mitchell tartly.

"That's where the chemical end of the control process comes into play." said Tubbs.

"So that's why we have these tanks with nozzles – to disperse the chemicals." Mitchell surmised.

"That's right." confirmed Tubbs. "They're a potent combination of neurotransmitters, steroids and protein pheromones to suppress and later to stimulate the production of various neurotransmitters. Right now we're pumping out neural suppressants – a mixture of serotonin and testosterone-inhibiting drugs. When H.Q. decides it's time to act, we'll change tanks to release testosterone and a blend of various glucocorticoids to stimulate aggression and prevent the re-uptake of aggression inhibitors."

"And we're doing this from a boat because the prevailing winds at this time of year come from the east." guessed Mitchell.

"Yes, it's a local effect of our proximity to Chesapeake Bay." said Tubbs. "It works to our advantage. If the winds were variable we'd be constantly changing our location. We'd probably have to be onshore, too. We have to get pretty close to our, um, _subjects_ for the drugs to be effective. At least here we have half the river between us and the mutants."

"Once we open these other tanks," said Tubbs, gesturing to the second array of high-pressure cylinders, "the mutants will attack anything they see. If we've gotten the dosage wrong they may even attack one another."

"That would be quite a coup for the Brotherhood." said Mitchell. "We'd be in big trouble with the high command."

"We'd be dead." replied Tubbs. "The high command doesn't tolerate failure of that magnitude. No, we have to release the gas and then ensure that the mutants go after the Citadel. We may have to regulate the flow if they appear either too passive or too aggressive."

"Wonderful." said Mitchell dryly. "I thought we could just turn on the nozzle jets, hop into the raft and wait for a Vertibird to pick us up. Now you're telling me that we have to babysit a few thousand super mutants to be sure that they _don't _play nicely with others?"

"That's the gist of it, yes." said Tubbs. "Welcome to the rabbit hole."

…………………**.**

Note: The dialog in which Owen Lyons tells Scribe Rothchild to tell the troops that the Lone Wanderer was on his way in order to boost morale and despite the fact that it may be a lie was a much-appreciated suggestion from Lord Kain, author of several stories on .


	12. Chapter 12

"The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that's the way to bet." - _Damon Runyon_

………………**..**

Chapter Twelve: _The Storm Breaking_

…………………**.**

"_What a brazen faced varlet art thou. You whoreson cullionly barbermonger. Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood." _

Nothin'. They're more like Brahmin that super mutants." He tried again.

"_You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things. __Where will thou find a cavern dark enough to mask thy monstrous visage?"_

Three Dog was getting angrier by the moment.

"Hey, you big, green, ugly piece of Brahmin shit! Yeah, you! _See you!_ Now come and get me!"

No dice.

"That's it. Moon 'em, Gideon."

Gideon shrugged, unfastened his belt, turned around and dropped his drawers. The super mutants far below were unimpressed. A few of them stared in bemused curiosity; a couple even pointed up to the top of the Shakespeare Company's building, but none of them so much as uttered a "_Found you!"_ in response.

"Well, I guess I've lost my touch." said Gideon. "Of course I haven't mooned anyone in more than two hundred years but the last time I did the university police at ANU were considerably more upset by it than these mutants."

"I still say we're missing something important." said Maggie. "Gideon, I want to follow up on your analysis. Vikia, I'd like your point of view, too. There's a pattern here if we can just recognize it."

"My point was that the mutants are acting out of character in all kinds of ways." said Gideon. "I wish I knew the reason, but I'm as much in the dark as everyone else."

"What would cause a super mutant to go all passive?" asked Daniel. "Do you think they're sick?"

"I don't think so." said Vikia. "None of the mutants that I'm looking at appear to be in any kind of distress. Quite to the contrary, they seem perfectly healthy aside from their lethargy. Looking only at their behavior I'd say they were all on some kind of drug. The problem with that hypothesis, however, is discovering the mechanism for introducing a drug to so large and diverse a population."

"I used to travel with a wasteland doctor." said Hanu. Seeing the looks of surprise she added "What? Did you think I'd been slave my entire life?"

"No, it's just that you never talked about your past when we were working … when we were in captivity." answered Sylvia abashedly. "Sorry. I shouldn't be surprised I guess. I just don't recall you patching up any raiders."

"Don't apologize." Hanu replied. "It was a moral dilemma for me. I probably could have saved some of their lives. They would come in all shot up or with pieces cut out of them. Or they'd overdose on their chems and fall out right there in front of me. I just couldn't bring myself to help them get back on their feet – not when I knew that if I did, then whoever I treated would go right back out and kill someone else."

"Ouch." said Three Dog. "That's a morally no-win situation for any healer. Me, I'd have fed 'em some Abraxo and chalked one up for the good guys, but that's just me."

"The point I wanted to make" Hanu continued, "is that there's only a couple of ways to dose this large a population. It looks like every super mutant in the Capital Wasteland has been drawn to this one, specific spot. How in the world could you do anything at all to every member of so large a group?"

"It seems to me," said Vikia, "that it has to be something airborne. The water supply isn't distributed over the entire wasteland, and disease contagion is unlikely to spread so fast or so evenly. From what we know of super mutants, they congregate in small groups with little or no contact between the groups. I think that rules out poison, mass-drugging and contact contagion."

"Which leaves us with something that travels in or by the atmosphere." said Daniel. "We're narrowing down the possibilities here. I think the next question is 'What travels in the atmosphere and can affect behavior?' "

Sylvia chimed in "I have one, too. What has a mouth but can't chew? Oh, sorry." she said, noticing the questioning looks from the others. "I think I'm getting a bit hysterical. It just sounded like a riddle. Just go on, please. Forget I said that."

After a brief pause Liam soothed "That's alright; we're all understandably on edge. Your answer is a river, Sylvia; Daniel's answer can be several things. It could be an airborne organism as Vikia suggested. If so, however, it would have to be able to reproduce itself in the atmosphere; otherwise it would disperse as soon as it was released."

He went on "It could also be some kind of electronic signal – perhaps a triggering mechanism that affects some part of a super mutant's brain. I'm not sure how it would act so as to cause all the mutants to gather in one place, but it would be easy to implement. You just broadcast a signal and the next thing you know you have 5,000 super mutants over for dinner and dancing."

"I like that theory, Liam." said Daniel. "It's the simplest explanation for what we've seen. Occam's razor and all that. It also narrows down the list of culprits to just about one – the Enclave."

"Yeah, no one else has the broadcast capability," said Maggie, "unless you think Three Dog is a double agent …"

"Hey, don't even joke about that." said the GNR host.

"… or maybe that violin-playing lady is really a spy for the devil heads." Maggie finished, smiling thinly.

"And _don't_ go dissin' Agatha." laughed Daniel.

"If it is the Enclave," said Gideon, rejoining the discussion, "then it would be nice to know their agenda."

"And their next step." added Vikia. "I mean it's pretty clear that they want the super mutants to do what they failed to do – destroy the Brotherhood on the east coast."

"They might just manage it, too." said Liam. "I wouldn't have believed there was any way to get all the super mutants gathered in one location, but there they are. Who knows what else they're capable of doing."

"I think we'd better find out." said Daniel. "We can't put together a plan of action until we know what the bastards are up to."

"And how do they plan to accomplish it." added Maggie. "How do they plan to get the mutants to attack the Citadel?"

"Whatever we're going to do," Gideon said ominously, "we'd better do it fast. The stream of mutants finally seems to have slowed. I can't see any mutants in the water and the lines that stretched out to the west are now just a trickle. Whether we can anticipate their next move or not, I think it's going to happen sooner rather than later."

"But _how_ are they going to do it?" persisted Maggie. "If we assume that they got the mutants here by using electronic transmissions, can we also assume that they'll use the same technique to bring the super mutants to riot against the Citadel?"

"I don't think so." said Liam. "Electronic transmission is a fairly blunt instrument; sort of like an on-off switch. I'm no expert, but I don't know how they would use them to stimulate a mutant's brain into aggressive behavior. What do you think, Vikia? The Commonwealth undoubtedly has the most sophisticated techniques of mind-control available. Is there any possibility that they're in this with the Enclave?"

"No. It's not even remotely possible. When I was still at the Institute the military as well as the scientists simply _loathed_ the Enclave. They considered them to be neo-Nazis. They weren't crazy about the Brotherhood of Steel, either, but it wasn't personal – just an aversion to the Brotherhood's perceived arrogance and aloofness. Their antipathy for the Enclave was almost visceral; it was as if they recognized their philosophical opposite number on an instinctive level. They would never co-operate with any organization run by John Henry Eden and Augustus Autumn."

"If they're relying on their own technical people, it's likely that they're playing to their strengths." said Liam. "That means chemically-controlled behavior. Remember, their biologists and chemists have had decades of experience with the FEV. It's probably not much of a scientific jump for them to whip up a chemical to stimulate aggressiveness."

"Just like the chemical they must be using to _suppress_ the mutants' aggressiveness right now." said Daniel. "I think a light bulb just went on over my head."

"Yeah, I see it too." said Maggie. "They must be using chemicals to keep the mutants docile until they're ready to act."

"Now that the numbers have stabilized," Gideon reiterated, "I think they're going to be ready very shortly."

"They must be operating from somewhere nearby." said Daniel. "I think you're right about the dispersion, Liam. They must need to be close to the mutants in order to control them."

"And they have to be close enough to observe the effects of the chemicals." added Maggie.

"Yes, they may have to tweak the mutants' behavior at some point. They can't do that from more than, say, a mile away." agreed Vikia.

"Let's get up on the roof and _look_ for these assholes." urged Three Dog.

"Yeah, let's do that _now._" agreed Liam.

He shot to his feet and headed for the narrow stairway to what was left of the roof. Gideon had constructed a small platform for observation but it had never been intended for this many people. Nevertheless, everyone in the room with the sole exception of Daisy, hurried to the roof. If their analysis was correct, and they all felt that they had hit upon the truth of the matter, then they were in a frantic race against time. If only they could find the source of the Enclave's control device they could attempt to neutralize it before the assault began.

When they reached the observation deck, however, they saw that they were too late. The mutants were no longer docile. They were a mob, and they were heading for the gates of the Citadel. The barbarians were at the gate and battle was about to be joined.

…………………**.**

"Hello Echo 94. This is Echo 17 over."

"Echo 94. I repeat, this is Echo 17 over."

"Echo 94 nothing heard, out."

…

"Mitchell, get that transmission, damnit!"

"I'm on it."

Lieutenant Tubbs watched his sergeant and friend rush to the ham radio and pick up the mike. As soon as he was certain that Mitchell was responding properly he scurried up the companionway to find the Major.

Mitchell pushed the Clear To Send. "Echo 94 send, over."

"Echo 17, where have you been 94? Strike that. Satellite imagery shows the mutant population has maximized. Operation Green Tide is a go. Repeat, Operation Green Tide is a go."

"Echo 17, we read you Echo 94. Implementing Operation Green Tide. Repeat. Implementing Operation Green Tide."

"Rodger that, 94. 17 out."

"94 out."

As Mitchell rose from the desk he saw Major D'Urberville leap down the last steps of the companionway with Lieutenant Tubbs on his heels.

"Well?" asked Tubbs tersely.

"It's a go." replied Mitchell. "Operation Green Tide is a go. The satellites show that the super mutant population has peaked. It's time to jump ugly."

"Lieutenant." said D'Urberville, who had regained his breath after his sprint below.

"Sir!" replied Tubbs.

"Switch the tanks." the major ordered. Then he added, "Tell the crew to watch out for blowback from the mutants. If they decide to attack the boat we need to be ready to withdraw."

"Yes sir." replied Tubbs.

He turned to Mitchell and said, "Throw the switch, Gunny. Throw the switch and let slip the dog of war."

…………………**.**

"Hurts! Head hurts. Argh! Angry! Kill. Kill you!"

_Grok_, which was not really his name, only the sound he made to make his needs known, swung his sledge hammer at the brute next to him. This surprised his neighbor in as much as they had been leaning on each other and nodding off just a few seconds ago. Then his neighbor caught the sweet, new smell drifting in from across the river and suddenly saw red. He clenched his fists and turned to face Grok, to hit Grok, to kill Grok, to …. The last thing he saw was Grok swinging his sledge hammer a second time. More effective than the first strike, this blow landed on the crown of his neighbor's head, crushing his skull and instantly ending his life.

Grok turned, looking for another outlet for his rage. He saw men; men in metal suits. Men with guns. Puny men who wanted to hurt Grok. His rage intensified, his head pounded and he bellowed his challenge.

"Kill them! Kill puny men! KillKillKillKillKillKill!"

…………………**.**

The five-sided building that once served as the nerve center for the most formidable armed forces in the history of the world had seen better days. It had taken tremendous damage in the Great War. The structure once had a stark, symmetrical beauty that now was recalled only by the underground 'Rings.' The exterior walls had been shattered in places by a near-miss in the atomic exchange. For two hundred years anyone passing by the edifice had a clear view of the ghostly corridors and offices. Desks, cabinets and the occasional skeleton were clearly visible from the plaza that surrounded much of the building.

Until the Brotherhood of Steel arrived in the Capital Wasteland, however, no one had made a home in the archival structure. This wasn't due to misplaced respect for an ancient government but rather because of the sentry and other robots that still populated the grounds one hundred and eighty years post-war in 2057.

The robots had not deterred Owen Lyons' troops. They had simply destroyed those which could not be reprogrammed. More challenging was the repair of the complex. Of necessity, the majority of the work in the early years had gone into making the building secure. Security doors were repaired and installed between the Rings. Turrets were placed at intervals along the walls. As for the walls themselves, sheets of metal now encircled the Pentagon, enclosing it in a girdle of steel.

In order to anchor these steel walls, holes were dug beyond the exterior of the building and huge, steel beams were driven into the surrounding bedrock. From these beams, girders were connected to the building's steel walls. The resulting metal framework was unsightly but uncommonly sound. The turrets above the walls were welded onto the framework of the web and manned or unmanned fire could be directed from these turrets at anyone unfortunate enough to be attacking the building from ground level. Now, with thousands of heavily-armed super mutants at the gates, Owen Lyons wondered for the first time in almost twenty years whether their defenses would be adequate to stop the invaders.

The super mutants below were firing at the walls of the building indiscriminately. Most of the weapons were simply no match for the thick, steel sheet metal. Some of the weapons, however, held armor-piercing shells that eventually began ripping through the thinner sections of the wall after the first few minutes. More mutants were being killed by 'friendly fire' than by the fire coming from the Brotherhood's turrets.

Ricocheting bullets were bouncing off the walls and taking a terrible toll on the mutants. Normally, an army that takes more than 20 percent casualties will abandon the field of battle. The mutants were incensed to the point of madness, however, and continued to hammer the walls until eventually holes began to appear in the steel sheath surrounding the building.

Worse, some of the mutants were carrying energy weapons which, in their fury, they discharged directly into the walls of the Citadel. This resulted in plasma burns, lost eyesight from flash-outs and in some cases incineration when the beam reflected directly back at the mutant who foolishly fired the weapon at the steel wall in the first place. In this late afternoon attack on the Citadel, however, the super mutants were bearing these consequences and incredibly, the walls of the Citadel were beginning to glow red!

The knights on the walls targeted the mutants who were using these energy weapons in a frenzied attempt to forestall a complete meltdown of the outer walls of the Citadel. Without walls, the tide of mutants would quickly overrun the Bailey and the remaining forces of the Brotherhood would be driven back into the Rings to fight a hopeless delaying action that would end with the total destruction of the eastern Brotherhood of Steel.

In this desperate hour, Owen Lyons stood upon the battlements of the front gate accompanied by his aides and by his closest friend.

…………………**.**

"There's no end to them, Owen."

"Courage, old friend. Their rage is undirected and undisciplined. The danger to us comes from their sheer numbers. As their numbers decrease, so will the danger. Let us not give our enemies the benefit of our panic."

Rothchild thought that this might be an ideal time to panic. In fact, if one were ever going to panic, this would certainly be the time to do so. He realized that he was near hysteria and made a determined effort to bring himself under control. He realized that his friend was speaking to him.

"Sarah reports activity at the Shakespeare Company building." said Lyons.

"Where?" asked Rothchild.

"That building across the plaza and to the south. See there? I can see the lights from here, even with these old eyes." Owen Lyons, in fact, could see as well as he ever could; he simply enjoyed playing a doddering curmudgeon on occasion.

"Yes, I see it now." said Rothchild. "But what's that I _hear._ Our medical scribes tell me stress can bring on auditory hallucinations. It must be true because I could swear that Galaxy News Radio is broadcasting Shakespeare from the Theatre."

…………………**.**

"Turn off the jets! Turn off the damn jets! They're going crazy. They're killing themselves!" shouted Major D'Urberville.

"With all due respect, sir, the super mutants are firing directly at the walls of the Citadel. While this may result in heavy mutant casualties, it would seem that the tactic has been effective. As you can see, Major, the walls of the Citadel are _glowing_."

The doctor paused and looked more closely through his telescope. By the gods he was right. The lieutenant was right! It was only a matter of time before the Citadel simply … melted. Oh yes, this was even better than he had hoped for. He'd be a hero. He'd be promoted. He'd never, ever have to go into the field again.

"Alright Lieutenant, your point is well made." said D'Urberville. "Turn down the jets a bit, but let's allow this drama to play out according to our script. I can hardly believe it, but this is actually going according to plan."

…………………**.**

"Hey you, Mutie. Yeah you." Three Dog shouted through the microphone.

Shouting was redundant. Even the gunfire and explosions did little to mute the volume of the speakers facing out into the Plaza. As Galaxy News Radio's disc jockey stood on the edge of the roof hurling invective at the horde of mutants, individuals in the crowd would turn to seek out the face of their tormentor.

Three Dog's genius lay in his ability to make each mutant in the crowd think that he was being _personally _insulted. Not only that, but the insults cut to their very core. Few of the mutants knew the meaning of any of the words being directed at them, but the _tone_ of the insults made one thing quite clear – their abuser thought they were _stupid_. Stupid mutants who didn't even understand that they were being mocked.

Super mutants are twice the size of the biggest humans; twice their strength, too. They can fight all day and their senses are better than a human's. But there's one thing that makes all that meaningless – they…are…STUPID. And they _know _it. And, it drives them _wild_.

So when Three Dog began his psychological warfare, he was dealing with a vulnerable enemy. The DJ had spent months being attacked by super mutants at the GNR studios; he knew them inside and out. He knew their strengths and he knew their weaknesses. Now, finally, he had a chance to use his experience to exploit the mutants' weaknesses. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

"Look at you!" he said to no one in particular and to each mutant individually, "d_eformed, crooked, old and sere, ill faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere, vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, stigmatical in making, worse in mind."_

An Overlord took aim at the roof and fired, but the shot was impossible. Three Dog was out of range, but not out of earshot.

"_O, ho, monster. What have we here, a man or a fish, dead or alive?"_

More mutants were looking up at him and cursing. "Kill you! See you! Found you!" The mutants at the rear of the crowd, the ones too far from the walls of the Citadel to be part of the attack, turned and focused their attention at the monster on top of the building. The one who hurt their pride. The mob began to swell in his direction.

Three Dog peered into the crowd and each mutant thought he was speaking only to him. _ "So vile a lout. On my knee I give heaven thanks that I am not like to thee. Thou odoriferous stench, sound rottenness."_

"Argh! Kiilll youuu!" The swarm of mutants had almost entirely reversed their field, now. They came on at a full run, cursing and waving their weapons and their arms. Some fell and were trampled by their fellows in single-minded intensity. Only one thing mattered now; silencing the man on the roof. Make him stop. Shut his mouth. Kill him. Kiiilll him!

……………………………………………………**..…….**

Note: There are numerous quotes from Shakespeare in this chapter. The insults that Three Dog hurls at the super mutants are from _King Lear, Julius Caesar, Comedy of Errors,_ _The Tempest_ and _King John_ respectively. Fans of the Bard will recognize _Julius Caesar_ as the source for Lieutenant Tubbs' charge to his Gunny, "…let slip the dogs of war."


	13. Chapter 13

"All life is six to five against." – Damon Runyon

Chapter Thirteen: _End Game_

…**.**

"Um, I think you got their attention, son." Gideon smiled up at Three Dog who seemed as surprised as anybody that the super mutants would be so touchy.

"Everybody's a critic." he said. Rather than force glibness that he didn't feel, he closed his mouth and jumped down off the platform. "Some people are born annoying and others have annoying people thrust upon them" he said, recovering his aplomb long enough to paraphrase some old recording from the GNR archives. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"We have a few minutes yet." said Gideon. "The first floor is a bit of a maze and the turrets and 'bots will keep the mutants busy for a few minutes yet."

"Do you think I should keep up the blather?" he asked, looking at the wireless microphone questioningly. "They seem pretty pissed off, but they don't have the longest attention span, either."

"Perhaps if you gave them some, ah, _encouragement_ every few minutes …." Gideon suggested.

"No problem. I haven't had this much fun since …. Well, let me get back to you on that." he said.

"OK, and I'm going over there to see what Maggie and Vikia are up to." Gideon said, indicating the other side of the roof. He climbed over a low panel to where the two women stood in what appeared to be an animated conversation.

…**.**

"Oh God, they're coming this way; they're _all_ coming this way!" Vikia's eyes went wide and Maggie was sure that the deep, ragged breaths the android was sucking in were an unfeigned reaction to the sight of the mutant mob. "Why would they program _fear_ into an android?" she wondered. "Maybe for survival? A fight or flee response?"

The raider chieftain put her curiosity aside, however, and asked "What god would that _be, _Vikia?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, Maggie. Any god that will turn those creatures aside will do."

"I remember the writings of some prophet named Ben Franklin in one of those old holy books. He said '_God helps those who help themselves_.' Maggie recalled out loud. "Maybe we should try to figure out who's controlling these beasts and where they're hiding."

"We better do this figuring really fast then, because they're already pounding on the walls. I can hear the turrets and the robots opening fire. It won't be enough, Maggie."

"Your eyes are better than mine." said Maggie, still under control but feeling a bit frayed around the edges. "Take a walk around the perimeter of the roof with me."

The two women strode along the edge of the roof as far it extended. Where it had been blown away, they jumped down to Gideon's penthouse and walked along tiled floors and worn carpeting always looking out over the darkening landscape. After circumnavigating the top of the rectangular theatre they sat, by unspoken mutual consent, on a low, brick wall facing east over the Potomac.

"Vikia, do you keep visual data records of your environment?" asked Maggie

"Yes, I keep a continual record of all my sensory input for several hours post real-time." she answered. "The exact length of time depends on the amount of change going on around me. If I'm in a closed room for several hours, my memory will begin to purge the minutia after several minutes. In a fluid environment such as the one we're experiencing currently, I won't purge anything until the volume of input gets back to normal."

Maggie nodded and rested her chin on her fist. "I want you to check your current visual imagery against your record of this area one hour ago, two hours ago and so forth. I want to know if there are any anomalies – is there anything that's changed that _shouldn't_ have, or for that matter, is there anything that _should have_ changed but didn't?"

Vikia immediately sat upright, almost inhumanly rigid. _Perhaps the subroutines that help her mimic human mannerisms are considered superfluous when she's called upon to perform a critical task like the one I just requested_ thought Maggie. She noticed the pupils in Vikia's eyes contract and flicker while her sclera appeared to widen. If she was human it would have looked as though she was experiencing shock.

"The boat." said Vikia.

"Come again?" asked Maggie.

"It's the boat. It's been _adrift_ in the Potomac since we've been here, but its changed position twice in the past hour. We haven't seen a crew but someone must be moving it and keeping it in position." Vikia said.

"Couldn't it just be drifting?" asked Maggie.

"If it began to drift it would've floated out to sea by now." Vikia insisted. "No, I have thousands of views of that river and no one has _ever_ come up on deck to drop an anchor. What's more, the last time the boat changed position, it moved _upriver_."

"Damn. I guess it up to us to do something about those bastards." said Maggie resignedly. "There's just one thing we're going to need to pull this off."

"What's that?" asked Vikia, taking the bait.

" A plan."

…**.**

"Where the devil are they going?

"You're not complaining, are you Owyn?"

"No, damn it Reg! I just hate surprises." Owyn Lyons struggled to control his emotions; elation at the wrong time could be just as deadly as despair. Still and all this was a bizarre turn of events.

"First the super mutants turn up as though it's an FEV convention." the Brotherhood's Elder noted. "Then they sit around for two days like they're waiting for the show to begin. Then, by God, the show _does_ begin and it's Shakespeare, from the bloody Shakespeare theatre, only it's not the old ghoul who lives there that's broadcasting, it's that disc jockey from Galaxy News Radio. What's the hell is _he_ doing here? Why's he reciting Shakespeare? And why does it piss off the bloody mutants?"

…**.**

"Farrell! If you're going to slouch, slouch like a knight of the Lyon's Pride. Here, let me show you how it's done." Sarah Lyons had been standing next to Initiate Sean Farrell with her back to the wall next to the front gate. She let her feet slowly slide out from under her as she slid to the ground.

"See? Head back against the wall, butt on the ground, legs akimbo." she said. "Don't fret; you'll get the hang of it after a few battles like this one."

"Ma'am, did you just make a _joke_?" the young fighter asked.

"I wouldn't presume, Farrell." she said. "Life is peculiar enough without me adding to the divine plan. You fought well, by the way. Just don't get cocky."

"No chance of that, Ma'am." he said. "No chance at all."

…**.**

"This is the last of them." Liam said as he connected the wires on the last of his charges. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. His sweat stung and he thought he must be dehydrated.

"I'm done, too." said Daniel. "Let's get back to the roof."

He glanced over at Liam and said "So is this what I have to look forward to when I get old? Simple tasks taking it out of me; sweating like a pig after an hour of hard work?"

"Who says you're going to live to get old?" Liam cracked back. "Children who don't respect their elders … "He paused in the middle of his comeback. "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah. We're too far from the Atlantic for it to be the ocean." said Daniel cautiously.

"A low, dull roar that gets progressively louder." Liam pondered. "Sure sounds like the ocean to me – except for the automatic weapons fire and the explosions, of course."

"Yeah, fish don't normally have that kind of ordnance." said Daniel. "Maybe we should get back upstairs. I've got one of the detonators; how about you?"

"I have the other in my pocket." Liam answered and moved to the stairwell where, belying his _age,_ he took the steps two at a time.

…**.**

Liam could hear grenades and small arms fire before he reached the top of the stairs leading to the lobby of the theatre. Daniel pushed past him and shouldered open the fire door while lowering his rifle.

"Kid, wait!" cried Liam even as his followed. "I hear ..."

Liam grabbed Daniel by the shoulder and pulled him back into the stairwell. "… a missile launcher." he finished. The hydraulic arm pulled the door shut just as the missile exploded. The door was solid but it still flew off its hinges and bounced off the far wall.

"Thanks." said Daniel, and he rose and launched himself through the smoking hole in the wall where the door had stood. Liam shook his head and stepped over a twisted jamb. He slipped his night-vision goggles down over his eyes. They stood in a short hallway that led from the lobby to one of the theatre's service doors. They were hidden by the dust and the mutants were occupied with the remaining turrets. Perhaps a dozen heat signatures appeared in Liam's display; he set his rifle to automatic and fired.

Daniel was taking single shots at the mutants and Liam admired his shooting as he replaced the clip in his own weapon. He was still hidden by the debris as he brought his gun to his hip and saw the last remaining super mutant turn to face Daniel. The mutant had a great poker face. The muscles and tendons around his eyes and mouth were stretched taut giving him that characteristic mutant sneer. Most humans assumed that this simply reflected their limited emotional range; once you got past the rage there simply wasn't much left over.

The mutant facing Daniel swung his gatling laser in an almost leisurely maneuver, shifting his center of gravity to the leg closer to his target. His mouth closed to hide his teeth as his cheeks were pulled up even closer to his eyes. What passed for the mutant's lips curled upward. Daniel thought this was perhaps the first time he had seen a super mutant smile.

"Got you." the mutant whispered.

Daniel realized that a moment's idle curiosity was going to cost him his life. Instinctively he raised his own weapon though he knew he was going to be just an instant too late. He didn't have time to feel regret, he just … watched the Overlord's head explode. He turned to his right as Liam was lowering his AK. Daniel shrugged and exhaled. He felt relief wash through him. Then the wall fell in.

"It's just a hole," Liam protested, "not the entire wall." For a moment he had thought the building was coming down too soon. Three mutants came through the new entrance to the lobby. They fell in a hail of bullets but already there were shadows taking form behind them.

"Let's get back into the theatre." said Liam.

"I'm right behind you." Daniel replied.

They turned and ran to the end of the short hallway and through the service door. It led to the front of the theatre, stage left. They were alone for the moment but the raucous intruders were close on their heels.

"Up here." said Daniel as he climbed onto the stage.

"I always thought you must be a bit of a prima donna." said Liam, "and here's proof."

Daniel took the needling in stride and cut between the curtains. With Liam following, Daniel began to climb a ladder that rose to the catwalk above.

"I hope this isn't a dead end." Liam remarked.

"If it is, it'll give new meaning to the phrase." replied Daniel, continuing to climb while gesturing at the mutants who had begun to enter the performance hall. Liam fought an irrational urge to cry out "Tickets, tickets please." He watched Daniel reach the top of the ladder and move to his left along the metal scaffolding. At one end of the catwalk was a small door into which Daniel disappeared.

"You might have told me that there was an exit up here." scolded Liam.

"What? And ruin the surprise?" answered Daniel. Then he explained "Gideon showed me the blueprints, remember?"

Liam showed his teeth in a sardonic grin but before he make a riposte the theatre speakers came to life with the now-familiar voice of GNR-come-to-the-Potomac.

"_Hey, how're you Frankensteins liking our theatre? If you have any questions or complaints, please speak to your nearest usher so he or she can tell you to EAT SHIT AND DIE! Does that make you angry? Well too bad, you can't do anything about it. I think I'll just sit on this microphone all night and tell you how stupid you are. Big, stupid mutants; can't even find a few humans, can you? Hahahaha. Come and get us, muties."_

"I think they're good and provoked by now." said Daniel. "I know that old saw about an angry opponent being already defeated, but still …. There's just something about antagonizing ten-foot tall monsters that speaks to my sense of self-preservation."

"I know what you mean," said Liam, "but I think that was for the benefit of the mutants still outside in the Plaza."

"I may have to revise my opinion of raiders' intelligence." cracked Daniel.

"Famous last words?" Liam retorted.

"We're going to have to blow this building soon, remaining mutants or not." said Daniel.

"OK, let's get back to the roof and see how many are still wandering around outside." Liam said.

…

"Major, MAJOR!" The trooper who had stuck his head down the companionway was asking to have it cut off. Nevertheless, he persisted in his nearly hysterical rant long enough to get his commander's attention.

"I don't recall asking for a wakeup call, trooper. Is there a reason that you're shouting at an officer or shall I just schedule the court martial?"

"It's the super mutants, sir. They're not attacking the Citadel any longer. They've moved to the building next door. We thought the building was empty but someone is in there and he's provoking the mutants to attack." The trooper was the only member of the crew who was notfrom the Hellfire battalion. He was there because he was a _Pilot._ He came from a family of river sailors and was himself familiar with this river. This particular boat belonged to his uncle. Boats, however, were not a priority for the Enclave. The Enclave was _not_ a naval power.

"When did this happen?" D'Urberville snapped.

"We aren't sure, sir. There are no lights on shore. We've been hearing gunfire and explosions all along. We know there's been a battle in progress since this afternoon; we just didn't realize it had shifted its focus."

"Are the Brotherhood's troops holding the building that's under siege?" asked the Major.

"Unknown, sir, but I don't think so. They have speakers mounted on the building and they're using them to provoke the mutants."

"_Provoke_ them? How?" D'Urberville was nearly apoplectic now. Lieutenant Tubbs came down the companionway having heard the commotion. Sergeant Mitchell walked in from the cabin housing the technical equipment into the main cabin. He had heard the Pilot inform the Major that the mutants were being provoked. He was as curious, in his own way, as the Major was about what could incite the mutants to reverse their field and attack an empty or nearly empty building.

"Shakespeare, sir. They're reading … Shakespeare." the Pilot said, as if he wished he could have said just about anything else.

"What? Are you serious, Pilot? If this is a joke, it's in very poor taste." said the Major.

"Shakespeare always pisses _me_ off." Tubbs commented wryly. He smiled until he saw his commander's expression.

"Turn off the transmitter and shut down the chem. tanks." ordered D'Urberville. "If they clear their heads and revert to character they'll realize that they're on the doorstep of the Citadel in force. With any luck they'll turn back around and finish melting their walls into slag."

"They need to get the hell out of that empty building first." said Sergeant Mitchell. "There're only a few hundred of them left in the Plaza. D'you see the firefight goin' on in that building? Who the hell are they shooting at?"

"Who cares!" yelled D'Urberville. "Once their neurotransmitters come out of high gear they'll start acting like their old, stupid, vicious selves. Now turn it all off."

The gunny sprang into action turning off the valves and shutting off switches. D'Urberville crossed into the fo'c's'le and Mitchell commented softly "What a loser. He manages to get damn near every mutant in the Capital Wasteland to move to the Brotherhood's front door, and then he loses control of 'em."

"Stow that bullshit, Gunny." said Tubbs. "We're not out of the game yet. Give the man a chance."

"I'm talkin' FUBAR here, LT." Mitchell knew he was bordering on insubordination here, but his frustration was driving him. "It's like that cartoon rabbit said, '_What a maroon_.'"

Tubbs just shook his head and said "Just keep your eyes on the Plaza."

…**.**

"Gideon, can we get any of those spotlights from the amphitheatre up here to the roof?" asked Maggie.

"Yes, if the mutants haven't reached the third floor yet. That's where the lights are mounted so they can illuminate the grounds." the old soldier answered.

"What about power?" Maggie asked, looking for power cables or other sources of electricity.

"The building hasn't had power in years," Gideon answered, "but I have several fission batteries that will work nicely."

"Let's go get them." Maggie said. She moved to descend the stairs but paused and bent to pick up Daisy.

"Hanu, will you keep Daisy with you? If something happens to us while we're fetching these lights I don't want Daisy to become a meal for one of these mutants."

"Of course, Maggie. I'll keep her with me at the back wall. If I see any mutants, we'll both be down the side of the building."

"Just watch out; she isn't really house trained yet." Maggie warned.

"If the mutants break out onto the roof," Hanu replied, "Daisy won't be the only one who wets herself."

"OK then, let's go."

…**.**

Maggie, Vikia and Gideon headed down the stairs cautiously. The mutants had reached the building only a couple of minutes earlier, so the main body had to still be on the main floor. With any luck they'd be pinned down by the robots and the defensive turrets for the time being. Isolated groups might find their way to the upper floors, however, and Maggie wasn't taking any chances.

She used a Stealth Boy and passed one each to Vikia and Gideon. Gideon took the lead as he knew the most direct route to the equipment they needed. They reached third floor without incident and began unbolting the spotlights from their perches on an exposed porch overlooking the north side of the theatre.

Maggie could see that the Citadel had been nearly abandoned as a target of the super mutants. This might be cold comfort for the Brotherhood, however; should the theatre be reduced, the horde might easily turn back and renew their attack upon them. The bolts on the lights had rusted in the 200 years since they had last been used, but Vikia's strength proved sufficient to force them.

She picked up one of the lights and Gideon made to carry the second. He bent at the knees, wrapped his arms around the frame of the lights and rose to his feet – and dropped right back down to his knees.

"How did you …." he looked at Vikia and trailed off. "I can't even …" He shook his head and bent at the knees, gamely wrapping his arms around the surprisingly heavy fixture again. Vikia stopped him with a gesture.

"I'm an android, Gideon. Please allow me to carry them both." She picked up the second light with her free hand and followed Maggie to the door leading to the stairs.

Gideon stared after them. "I guess I'm not the only one here with a story." he sighed, and trailed along providing a rear guard.

As he trailed the two women, Gideon took stock of his companions. They certainly were an unusual lot; androids, raiders, slaves, heroes. They _were_ actually heroes, one and all, he supposed. Why else would they be trying to save the Citadel when they could have scurried away and been safe, at least for the time being. He was pursuing this line of thought further when he walked into the spotlight that Vikia was carrying behind her. He looked up just in time to see Maggie dive to the left into the shallow recess provide by a doorframe. Further down the hall stood several super mutants who looked as startled as he himself felt.

The spell cast by mutual surprise was broken in an instant. The normally-phlegmatic ghoul shouted "Crikey!" and jumped to his right, where a smaller hallway led to a closet. Vikia, loath to drop her equipment froze for a moment. The mutants recovered their wits and seized the opportunity, firing assault rifles and a laser pistol at Vikia, the only target left to them.

At the last second, Vikia raised the spotlight that she was carrying at her waist and it shielded her from the bullets that would have pierced her upper body and face. Still, she took several shots to her legs and arms and was hurled backwards down the hall and up against the wall where she slumped to the floor. The mutants ceased their attack and moved ahead intending to root out Maggie and Gideon.

Maggie had managed to get the door open and had pulled a grenade from her belt and tossed it back out the door into the hall. It exploded at the feet of one of the mutants. The explosion took off his lower body up to his waist. He uttered a plaintive "Hurt" and expired.

Unfortunately for Maggie, this left four more mutants to deal with and there was only an old desk for cover in the room into which she had fled. Gideon could have retreated into the closet to his left, but he chose not to abandon his companions and so lifted his own rifle with which he imagined he would make his last stand. He moved back towards the main corridor from which he had just retreated. As he approached the junction he felt a breeze as he noticed a large object fly down the hall from his left, where he had last seen Vikia lying on her back, to his right, the direction from which the mutants were advancing.

Gideon stopped in his tracks and heard a sickening _STRUNK_, followed by cracks and thumps and then cries of pain and anger from the mutants as their bones broke and they hit the floor. With his feet still planted to the floor, he raised his rifle and leaned his head forward barely into the main corridor. He saw Maggie in the room diagonally to his right. She was doing the same as him and he saw her eyes widen as her peripheral vision apparently picked up the flight of the second spotlight hurtling down the hall into the already stunned mutants.

Once again he sprang back reflexively – at least a second after the light had passed by him, but then instinct didn't always kick as quickly as one would hope for. Again he heard the sounds of bones cracking and the reaction of mutants which followed. Knowing that Vikia had nothing else to fling at the mutants Gideon stepped into the corridor with assurance – just in time to feel a spray of bullets fly past his head and into the tangle of mutant bodies which littered the floor of the corridor in front of him.

For the third time he jumped back down _his_ hallway. He was becoming quite attached to this safe haven; perhaps he would stay there for a while longer. When the fusillade stopped he looked across the main corridor and saw Maggie poking her head out. In deference to the fury of Vikia's attack, Maggie looked first to her _right_ – in Vikia's direction, to determine any danger. Only then did she look to her left where, as she expected, five large bodies lay in various states of dismemberment.

Maggie and Gideon converged on Vikia, asking whether she had been injured by the impact of the bullets on her limbs.

"No, I'm not badly injured." she said. "I'm just glad they didn't have a flamer or a missile launcher. I guess we better go back for a couple of more lights."

…**.**

They managed to fetch two more lights without incident. Gideon's generators worked as advertised and the spotlights were soon in place on the eastern edge of the roof. Three Dog watched them installing the lights until his curiosity got the better of him.

"OK, I'll bite. What the hell are you going to do with those lights?" he asked.

Maggie explained as succinctly as possible under the circumstances. "You see that boat in the river?"

"Sure. It's been there for days." Three Dog replied.

"Actually," said Maggie, "it hasn't. It's been anchored in several spots, all of them in the river but each of them chosen to best catch the prevailing winds coming off Chesapeake Bay and blowing in the direction of the plaza next to the Citadel."

Three Dogs mouth formed a speechless "Oh" as understanding hit him. Then he narrowed his gaze out over the river and asked "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, most of the mutants are in the building already, but there are still quite a few left in the plaza. We thought 'Why should we have all the fun?' Maybe the folks on that boat would like a chance to meet a real, live super mutant. Do you think you could make that happen?"

A grim smile spread on Three Dog's lips. It held no warmth at all and it never reached his eyes. "Oh yes, I can do _that_. I'd be very happy to invite those mutants to go for a swim."

…

Liam and Daniel went through the door at the top of the stairway and locked it behind them. Out on the roof they could see Sylvia and Hanu with Daisy in her arms. Maggie, Vikia, Three Dog and Gideon were huddled around some equipment on the east side of the building. Suddenly night turned into day as the two spotlights came on illuminating great swaths of the Potomac. With some adjustment the lights converged on the small boat that had been floating offshore for the past couple of days. Three Dog brought the mike to his lips.

"Hello CHIIIILLLLLLDREEEENNNNNN, or maybe I should say MUUUUTTTTANNNTTTS. Three Dog has been watching you run around like Centaurs with your heads cut off for hours now, and you know what? Three Dog feels _sorry_ for you! That's right; the great and powerful Three Dog says it's time to give you stupid mothers a _hint_. You want to know where we're hiding? Well listen up 'cause Three Dog is gonna tell you."

Looking over the northern wall of the theatre, Liam could see that the rush into the building had halted. There were perhaps four or five hundred mutants still clustered around the hole in the wall leading into the lobby. Now they stepped out of their ragged queue and looked up at the spotlights expectantly. Some of the mutants shot at the lights themselves; others just shot at the twin beams of light stretching out across the water. The lights were out of range for weapons on the ground and shooting at the water was as effective as might be expected. Then Three Dog dropped the other shoe.

"We're in the boat, you stupid, hulking morons! That's where we've been all along. And you know what? You can't get us out here because you _can't swim_! So have a nice trip back to Vault 87 or wherever the hell you come from because you're _never_ going to get us – we have a _boat_! Ha, ha, ha! This is Three Dog at Galaxy News Radio: bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts."

…

"Major!" This time the trooper came down the companionway and came to attention before speaking. "We're lit up, sir; lit up like a, a … I don't know, like a, a …. They have spotlights trained on us, Major. They can _see_ us!"

"You think I can't see that?" asked D'Urberville. He stood up and walked to the porthole. The cabin was nearly as bright as it would be in broad daylight. He saw that the spotlight beams were trained amidships. He could see the shore clearly and he assumed that they could see him just as well – better since the lights were now in his eyes. Further, he saw mutants launching themselves into the water. Fortunately, the current was carrying them downriver, but some of the mutants had apparently learned from their earlier crossing and had moved north, almost to the Citadel fortifications, before diving into the frigid, fast-moving water.

With secrecy no longer an issue D'Urberville swept onto the deck, aft of the main cabin. He found Lieutenant Tubbs at the wheel. Sergeant Mitchell was above in the cockpit tower observing the mutant's progress. The Major viewed the tableau with the expression of a man watching his home burn to the ground. Horror, fascination and finally resignation crossed his face. In defeat he displayed an almost noble mien. He turned to Tubbs and said "Cut us loose, Lieutenant. We've done what we can here."

"Yes sir." replied Tubbs. "Trooper, raise anchor and fire the engines. Next stop is Chesapeake Bay."

The crew jumped to their tasks, eager to put the former Capital behind them. D'Urberville tugged at Tubbs' sleeve, an strangely intimate gesture in these circumstances. Quietly he said "I won't be going with you, Lieutenant. I'll be leaving the boat at the ramp just downriver. You'll be in charge now; get the crew home safely, eh?"

"Sir? You can't mean to stay behind. I know this is a disappointment but …."

"No Lieutenant, it's simple good manners. Someone has to stay behind and report the final outcome of this endeavor. Also, I'd prefer a quick death in the Wasteland to a slow _debriefing _at the hands of our interrogators."

Surely not, sir. Augustus Autumn is dead." said Tubbs, his consternation growing in proportion to the realization that his commanding officer was utterly committed to this plan.

"Colonel Autumn was a _symptom_, Lieutenant; he was not the _cause_ of the Enclave's political and philosophical depravity." said D'Urberville. "I'll be taking the spare radio, and of course a plasma rifle and the ship's chems and its war chest. I have no illusions of living to a ripe, old age, but there's no sense in making it easy for the bastards to kill me."

Tubbs smiled in spite of himself. Gunnery Sergeant Mitchell couldn't have been more surprised if President Eden was revealed posthumously to have been leading a double life as the voice of Galaxy News Radio. They set the Major ashore next to an old tub named the Duchess Gambit. The crew of the ferry seemed to consist solely of one young woman who vigorously waved to Sergeant Mitchell as the boat pulled up to the shore.

"I think she likes you, Gunny." said Lieutenant Tubbs.

The Sergeant hurried below muttering something about "… make a train take a dirt road." He didn't come back on deck. Major D'Urberville walked to the gangplank, turned and saluted Tubbs and walked down the pier to the shore carrying his gear. He disappeared into the complex of buildings and didn't look back.

…

"I just found this recorder. I hope it works. I'm Hanu … My name is Hanu Staley. If we're going to die I hope that whoever finds it will let my brother know what happened to me. They're probably going to call this 'The Battle of the Citadel' or some such thing. My brother is Gary Staley. He lives in Rivet City and he, … he has a diner called Gary's Galley that he runs with his daughter Angela. Remember I was there, Gary. You tell my niece, too. Tell her that her aunt was there with the Lone Wanderer and his friends."

"Three Dog is here, too! Yeah, the DJ from Galaxy News Radio. You know, 'Thanks for listening chilllldren! 'Awwooooh!.' Crazy, huh? He got all the mutants to attack us here in an old theatre where Gideon lives – Gideon's this old ghoul who's been living here forever. It's his home but we're going to blow it up now. He's OK with it I guess. He says it's better than getting killed."

"OK, I'm coming. Hey! Wait for _me_! We're all going over the roof now. There's rope and we have to tie ourselves to them with these _breaker bar_ things that Gideon had. They slow you down while you're going down the rope so you don't get killed. I'm so afraid! If I fall from here I'll die, I know I will. "

"Maggie and Liam are already on the ground. They make it look easy; they even took Daisy. Go on Three Dog. Oh, man. He puked over the wall. Look out Liam! There he goes. He still looks sick. Sylvia's going down the other rope. What? I can't hear… Oh, that's not a nice thing to say. She doesn't like me recording all this."

"Do I have to? Now? OK, OK. It's my turn. OK, I'll put it away. Oh shit! Here come the mutants! They're coming out of the hatch. Daniel and Gideon are shooting at them. There, over there! … How do you turn this thing …."

…

"I made it! I'm on the ground! Daniel and Gideon are almost on the ground, too. Liam gave me Daisy to hold again, that's the whimpering – not me. Oh, no. I can see mutants on the roof. Everyone's shooting at them. Daniel's on the ground. Jump Gideon! Ah! NO! The mutant fell off the roof! Or maybe he jumped. I think he jumped! Ohmygod!"

…

"Hurrrtts."

"Goddess, he fell right in front of me. He's all twisted up. He sounds like Daisy now. I'm going to be s…."

…

"I'm running … as fast … as I can … Daniel! OK? This is OK? Good, I can't run another step."

"I can't even see the Theatre, now. We're a couple of blocks south, or west or something. Liam and Daniel are checking their little boxes. They're going to blow up the building! I know I shouldn't feel bad for the mutants. They were trying to kill us, but they used to be human! That's what Maggie and Vikia were talking about, anyway. They didn't ask for this; didn't ask to be thrown into a pot full of viruses. Now they have guns and they want to kill us, or turn us into them! But that mutant sounded just like Daisy when he got hurt."

…

"I didn't think anything could be so loud. It went on and on and …. What? I can't hear you …I'm not shouting! I …Oh, OK. It must have been the explosion. Is all that dust from the Theatre? Then, they're all …. I'm finished for now. I'm alive, so I guess I don't really need to record this anymore. You want this, Three Dog? OK, here. Bye."

…

Note: Just wanted to thank everyone who's reading this story; especially if you've written a review and/or sent me an email. This Friday I'm leaving on a cross-country trip. I'm taking my three dogs for a ride in my VW van. We're driving from Carolina Beach, N.C. to Western Massachusetts and then on to Lodi, California. In these times you have to take work where you can find it. It might be a few days or more before I get the next chapter up, but be assured it _will_ be uploaded just as soon as I can manage it. To paraphrase John Paul Jones, "We have not yet begun to …lay pipe."


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